Consuming
by electricsoul20
Summary: 17-yr-old Sookie has had a consuming crush on her brother's friend, 26-yr-old Eric, ever since she can remember. He is older, gorgeous, and potentially forbidden. But what happens when feelings are reciprocated, fantasy becomes reality and it threatens to strain the relationships around her? M for Lemons and rudeness. All-Human. OOC.
1. Consuming

**Summary:** 17-yr-old Sookie has had a consuming crush on her brother's friend, Eric, ever since she can remember. He is older, gorgeous, and potentially forbidden. He's also unavailable and stuck in a relationship with his girl, Pam. But what happens when feelings are reciprocated, fantasy becomes reality and it threatens to strain the relationships around her?

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author and series.

**This story contains:** consensual, but possibly underage lemons, coarse language (from mostly Sookie's brother's friends, as boys will be boys), and eventual violence.

**A/N:** I'n new to FFN, but I have always loved the pairing of Sookie and Eric, and Alexander Skarsgard is some gorgeous man-meat. I wanted to write an all human story, where Sookie is younger, naive about the world, and Eric is older. Sookie is seventeen in this, and Eric is twenty-six. I'm hoping a sexual relationship with an underage girl in this story won't offend anyone. I don't mean it in bad taste, and I hope it doesn't offend anyone. (I am from Australia, it is consensual here, though I don't know the regulations on age in LA, USA.) Beside all that, I'm hoping you will enjoy, and let me know your thoughts throughout the story. That is half the fun of posting on here- reading other people's thoughts.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Consuming**

Tuesday evening I'm sitting at the kitchen table attempting to finish up a calculus problem set when Jason comes into the room. "You're still here, sis? I thought you were going out for the night with Tara later?"

"I still am, I just have to finish this homework first. You know how Gran gets. I'm having trouble with it, though."

He comes over to look while opening the lid of some guacamole dip. "Sorry, I don't think I can help you with that. Don't even know what the half of those symbols mean."

"Yeah, yeah. I was never expecting your assistance. You failed math, didn't you?"

"You bet, I did." He pats his hand over his chest boisterously, pretending to be proud and touched that I've remembered him flunking several years ago when he was still in high school. "Where are you going tonight with Tara?"

"Tara wants to see a movie. I don't know what's playing, though."

"Ok, well, so you know we're going to need the table soon. The guy's are coming over for poker night. You know it's tonight, right?"

It's been one of Jason's house traditions for months now. Every Tuesday he gathers around his old group of class mates and friends from high school, and they sit around drinking booze and gambling.

"Yes, I know, Jason. I remember. I promise I'll be done by the time your friend's get around. Hopefully, anyway. Sadly, by the looks of it, it's likely I'll be here for years."

"You better be finished by seven-thirty tonight. In the meantime, I'm going to hop in the shower." He leaves the room while stripping out of his shirt, and there's a knock at the door. I hear Jason open the front door and greet someone. You can expect a lot of knuckle grazing between my brother and his friends, and overly rough displays of masculinity. "Oh, hey, Eric, come on in. You're early." My heart starts pounding. Sometimes having a secret crush on your older brother's friend sucks. Jason pokes his head in through the entrance of the kitchen and grins. "Ok, Sook, here's your Superman."

I look up at him, totally startled._ My Superman? Where on Earth did Jason possibly get that idea from?_ Eric is right behind him, looking at me from behind Jason's beefy shoulder, appearing equally as startled.

Jason, being typically unaware of the discomfort he's caused, continues, "He can help you out. Eric got like an A in math, right? You passed that tricky bitch with flying colors, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I did, I guess."

"Awesome. I'm going to go jump in the shower for a quick minute. You, Eric, help yourself to as many beers as you want. Don't offer any to Sookie, all right?" He thumps Eric on the back with his palm loudly. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."

Eric goes over to the fridge and takes his sweet, sweet time about choosing a beer, then finally comes over to look over my shoulder. "What's the problem?" He sounds merely cautious.

"It's nothing. I'm just trying to finish this up, before Jason erupts into a hissy-fit and kicks me out on my butt."

He uncaps his beer, tosses the lid on the table carelessly near my sheet of work, and pulls up a chair to sit on the left of me. "Are you playing poker with us tonight, or what?" he asks me in an intentionally quieter voice so he won't have a chance of being overheard. "I thought this was meant to be men only?"

"It is, and I'm not playing with you men. So, you don't have to worry. I'm going out later anyway."

He nods, and licks his lips nervously. "Ok. You know I wouldn't have bothered coming over like this unannounced if I knew you were still going to be here. Your brother said you would be out before five."

"Oh, well. Excuse me for being slow with my homework." What did this mean? Did he come over hoping he wouldn't have to see me? Hoping I would already be out? "You know, forgive me if I'm being paranoid here, but I get the feeling you're avoiding me?"

He sighs and shakes his head slightly. His blonde fringe falls into his eyes with the movement, and he combs his fingers through his hair. "I never meant it like that. I just thought you wouldn't be here. It's kind of awkward, you know?"

"Hey, guys!" Hoyt comes into the kitchen with a carton of Bud Light hooked around his forefinger. He stops stock-still the instance he sees me. He runs his palm over his slightly reddened cheeks in embarrassment. "Oh, hey, Sook. Didn't know you would still be here?"

_Not him too._

"Yeah, I'm just trying to finish my homework. I didn't know you guys were so eager to kick me out of my own house."

"Aw, don't be like that now." Hoyt slams the carton down on the table and rubs my back in a circular motion. "You know I love you. You're like a little sister to me!"

I swat his hand away and poke my tongue out at him.

Eric doesn't take his eyes off me. He watches me intently while downing a few mouthfuls of his beer, then hops off the seat to pound a knuckle into Hoyt's ribs playfully. At least, I'm assuming it's intended to be playful in manner. He doesn't really look at that playful in his expression at all. He looks petulant and sulky. "Don't touch Stackhouse's little sister like that," he attempts to tease. "Get your filthy paws off that sacred little lamb. Seriously, dude. Keep your grubby hands off. She's off-limits." Hoyt cracks up laughing loudly, clutching his ribs, while Eric swoops back down into his seat next to me. He clears his throat, and says, very seriously and grimly near my ear, "So, what do you need help with?"

I point it out. "I'm having trouble working this equation out."

"Well, you multiply it to get your answer, do you not?"

"Yes, I know that," I answer, unable to keep the slight edge out of my voice. I'm annoyed at what he's just said about how he thought it was boy's night only, and how he indirectly was saying it's awkward around me. Perhaps he could tell I had a hideous crush on him, and it made him uncomfortable? Did I send far too many lusty looks his way? Was I that obvious, and simultaneously disgusting that he wanted to avoid me at all costs? I'm also currently annoyed because I can't seem to get my homework done or work out any of the answers, especially when being so short on time as I am what with all Jason's friends distracting me. I take in a deep breath and give my head a little shake to clear my mind of all thoughts so he won't start thinking I'm mentally incompetent.

He plops his beer down onto the table by my work and slips my pen out of my hand. He slides my piece of homework towards himself and adjusts on the chair a little to go over it. He starts explaining to me in more precise detail slowly and clearly on how to answer the problems, and I'm horrified that I can't seem able to drag my eyes away from his mouth while he talks...

He is talking and explaining, but everything else is literally flying past my brain. All that matters is his rich voice and the way his lips move.

"Ok, now. Show me what I just showed you." He pushes the pen back into my hand, letting his hand linger on top of mine, and pushes the sheet of my homework back over to me.

I'm caught in a super big dilemma, staring blankly down at the page of problems. What was he just saying?

"Come on, you know this. You're smarter than this. Write down what I just explained to you."

"There's too much distraction in here. Sorry. I can't think straight." He's the distraction- not that he knows it.

He throws a sharp look over at Hoyt, who's hanging around the kitchen counter crunching noisily on a handful of Doritos. "Jesus, Hoyt. Did you grow up in a barn? Learn to close your mouth a little, so Stackhouse can concentrate on her homework."

Hoyt pokes out his tongue at us this time. It's disgustingly yellow.

Eric cringes in his chair comically in disgust. "Hoyt, fucking grow up, man!"

There's another knock at the front door. Hoyt comes around hurriedly to slam a bowl of Doritos down onto the table. "Dig in, bitches. I'll go get it," he says on his way out of the room eagerly.

Eric watches me, waiting for me to start explaining the solution to the problem that he just told me, but my mind comes up blank. He sighs, shakes his head, and runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. He pinches my pen again, and shifts the chair closer to me so that our bodies are almost touching. Hopefully in a way he doesn't notice, I lean in a bit closer, echoing the way his body is slanted towards mine, and place my hand against his upper arm. He's surprisingly muscular, and that makes him all the more dreamy to me.

"I'll show you again, but you've got to show me how you do it this time," he says gently, with patience. He's a very good teacher, and even better to fantasize about.

"Thank you," I tell him, flexing and curling my hand a bit into his bicep. He turns his head to look at me, his expression unreadable.

A female voice sings out his name.

"Er-ic."

He rolls his eyes dramatically to the ceiling, causing me to laugh, and turns into the direction the voice came through.

"What is it, Pam?"

I look into the direction of where he is looking, and there she stands by the doorway. Pam is Eric's girlfriend, and she's looking right at me. She has a startled look, but then her eyes slowly drop the pen he is holding in his hand.

"Ah, is this a new job for you to earn a little more cash, in tutoring the younger generation?" She comes over in her outrageous high heels, ruffles his hair, and leans down to stage-whisper in his ear, "Hope you'll forgive me for the other night. I know I was being an unfair bitch."

I guess Eric likes her because she's older, his age, and because she is pretty. She wears high heels all the time, and scanty clothes that show off her divine womanly figure. I wonder whether me wearing high heels would change his opinion on me, or not. Would I seem far older and mature, enough that he would consider me date-worthy?

"Pam," he sighs, and turns back in his chair to ignore her. He doesn't want to have to deal with her right now, but obviously she can't get the message he is sending off. She bends down again, and kisses him on the forehead. He doesn't look at all happy to see her, this is meant to be boy's only, and for some reason, I am hit with an unbearable wave of jealousy. In a sense, I hate her. In another, I want to be her, because she has him. He is her man. Her Superman. "Pam, I told you, I already forgave you," he tells her flatly, still without looking at her.

"Did you? I seem to have missed the memento."

"What are you doing here, anyway? I thought this was meant to be men's night?"

"Just thought I'd make a quick call in, and let you know I'm sorry."

"Well, you're forgiven, Pam."

I have to get out of the room. I have to flee. I pack away my homework hurriedly, and curl the papers underneath one arm.

"Well, if this is men's night, what is Sookie doing here?"

If there is one thing I absolutely hate, it is people acting as though I'm not in the room with them.

"This is Sookie's house. She can stay however long she wants."

"Don't worry about it," I say hastily, snatching my pen out of Eric's grip. "I was just excusing myself."

"Really? You were just excusing yourself?" Eric repeats, assessing me. "What happened to helping you with your homework? I'm more than happy to?"

"No, thanks. I'll do just fine on my own. Besides, I'm not a little girl, and I got somewhere special I need to be."

"Oh." Pam looks up at me through her long thick eyelashes. She is really pretty, she has absolutely nothing on me. "Aren't you staying, Sookie?" Her tone implies she really wishes I wouldn't. "Maybe Eric can teach you how to play poker? He seems to like teaching you things."

I give her a fake, phony-assed smile. One that says 'Bite me'.

"Oh, no. I'm afraid I've got someone special I need to hang out with tonight."

"Hot date, I hope?" she drawls, sounding way more excited for me than I know she truly is. "It's about time someone popped your cherry, isn't it? You're already seventeen now, aren't you?"

I can't help but glance down at Eric, who is watching me carefully, almost morosely. Pam pinches his beer, parts her glossy lips and darts her tongue out to moisten them, before she takes a long sip of his alcoholic beverage.

"Yes, I am seventeen," I tell her curtly. "But unlike you, I'm not willing to allow just any man to pop my cherry." There, that does it. It wipes the smile off her face; she looks wounded and shocked, all at once.

"Good girl." Eric claps his hands together. "That's right. That's the way it should be, Sookie. You tell her. Pam, don't encourage her."

I feel my face glowing hot, but before I can say some snide remark directed at him too, Hoyt is calling out to me. "Sookie, your friend is here."

"Well, bye," I tell the pair of them sourly, and hightail it out of the room. I hear Pam laughing on the way out. I guess the pair of them see me as this goody-two-shoes. I'm just some little girl to them. Well, I would surprise them all. Eric Northman, especially.

* * *

I follow Tara down the front lawn to her car which is a brand spanking new Golf. She gives me an overview of her night working at the local Bon Temps grocery store, and we spend a few minutes laughing at the absurdity of half of the customers that come in there. Apparently one woman was being a total stuck-up bitch to Tara, and after latest cat-fight with Eric's girlfriend, it seemed I knew all about stuck-up cows. Towards the cinema, Tara leans towards me in the seat and asks,

"How are you tonight, girl Your quietness in temperament is unusual."

I let out a long breath and smile apologetically at her.

She throws a quick, inquisitive look my way. "Rough evening? Rougher than the one I only just had with Mrs. Fat Bigot?"

"Well, I'll definitely agree that you've had the rougher night out of the pair of us, Tara. I'm just incredibly... frustrated."

"Does it involve a certain man?" Tara knows I'm sporting a big crush on my brother's close friend. I spill my guts to her a lot on the very subject.

I nod, making a glum face at her.

"Ok, spit it out. You know that's what I'm here for. What's he gone and done now? You know, I swear your problems revolving around him are virtually non-existent. Why don't you just tell him you think he's hot, and let him bang you already?"

I laugh out loud at the suggestion. Then I feel all warm and gooey just thinking about him banging me. "Tara, he was helping me with my home work tonight. We were sitting really close, and I might have touched him."

"Oh, you touched him? This is a major development for you. Where did this touching take place?"

"I kind of touched him on the arm, and felt around his bicep muscle. And I've got to say, Tara, it felt so good. My hand on him. It just felt right, you know?"

"Hmmm. And then what happened? Something must have happened to get you all unhappy tonight the way you are? It isn't like you!"

"Well, his girlfriend Pam showed up, so it was... awkward."

"Right. And how was his reaction to her?"

"I don't know, Tara. He looked sort of.. irritated that she was there. And then Pam was off, saying hurtful comments directed at me, and he stood by me, which was nice."

"He stood by you, rather than his girl? That's a good sign, I think."

"Oh, let's just drop it now, Tara. Please, let's just enjoy the movie we're seeing."

We don't exactly enjoy the movie we choose to see, either. It's rather boring and slow, and once the ending credits came along, we were glad to get out of the cinema. When Tara drops me home, it's only hit ten thirty, and judging by all the manly cars parked outside in the drive, I'm guessing Jason's night is still happening. Jason gets really angry if I walk in on them playing, so I decide to sit out on the porch for a few minutes. I don't know how long I sit there for, peering up at the moon, but I hear the front door slowly clatter open, and footsteps. Someone nudges me gently in my lower back with the tip of their shoe, and I lean forward and tilt my head back to look up at them.

It's Eric.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey. You guy's still going on with the poker game?"

"We are. Well, they are. I forfeit this round after having lost fifty bucks in the last one to Alcide."

"Oh, that's a bummer," I laugh. "Maybe you shouldn't gamble so high next time?"

"You're right," he agrees, smiling down at me. "I shouldn't. It's very unbecoming of me." He gestures to the spot near me on the porch step. "May I?"

"Sure," I answer, far too cheerfully.

He scoots down next to me on the step, and our legs touch. I savour the moment, no matter how silly it is.

"What're you doing out here all alone?" he asks me concernedly.

"Well, I can't exactly head inside, can I? Jason would bitch and moan about it, like I'm intruding or something..."

"Yeah, he definitely would." He laughs to himself quietly. "That's Jason. Whining little bitch, if he doesn't get his way."

"True, that."

We fall into a comfortable silence for a bit. He knocks his knee gently against mine to get my attention, so I look over at him.

"You know, I'm really sorry about before. Did it upset you, what she said?"

I hesitate.

"It did, of course it did. And I'm sorry." He shifts on the step to look at me, and I mirror his movement so I'm looking at him, too. "It's over between us, anyway."

"Over?"

"I'm about to break up with her. It just hasn't been working out for a very long time." He's trying to read my face carefully, for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? "We've sort of been torturing each other for a very long time. I don't know why we haven't just ended it, yet. It's a comfort thing, you know?"

"No, I can't say I do know."

"Well, anyway." He sighs loudly and passes his hands over his face. "I'm sorry she treated you like that. She just gets that way sometimes. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

"Why do you feel its necessary to justify her actions to me?"

"I don't know." He laughs, a bit embarrassed and confused by that himself. "I don't know. I really don't know. But I just do." Without warning, he takes my hand quickly and holds it. My head is in a whirl. Internally, I'm squealing with joy. He hasn't ever held my hand before. "The timing is shitty, you know? The circumstances. I know... if things were different...if it wasn't like this..." He leans in a fraction to my face, and its then the smell wafts over me. Alcohol. "If things were different, you know?" he says again, and he squeezes my hand gently. Then he lifts it up to his mouth and presses his lips into my skin. The butterflies in my stomach flutter so wildly and erratically, and the warmth surges throughout my entire body along with the action. "It's just complicated, you know? The age difference and things. Plus, I can't lose a friend, you know?" He reaches over and touches my hair gently with his fingers.

Wow, he is really touchy-feely tonight. I love it. What brought this on all of a sudden?

He comes in closer. And then he's kissing me.

I'm dying inside. I have been anticipating this very moment for years, ever since Jason introduced him to me one night. And, whoa, it is actually happening, for real.

I part my lips and lean over, turning my head to deepen the kiss. He slides his tongue in. Alcohol. Beer and vodka, he tastes like. He slides a hand up over my thighs eagerly. And this is how it begins.

**Soooo, what do you think? Does it capture your interest? Please let me know as I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks :)**


	2. Dream Girl

**Thank you all so much for your kind responses. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-)**

* * *

**Consuming **

Maybe Tara has been right, in what she said in the car on the way to the cinema this evening? I should have taken the initiative and made the first move. I should have kissed him, or let him know how I feel, rather instead of feeling hopeless pining over him.

I thought I couldn't have him. I thought he saw me as nothing more than Jason's little sister, a child. I didn't think I would ever have a chance with him. Actions speak louder than words, and what this tells me, _right here_, making out on the porch and tasting all the alcohol he has drunk in the previous few hours, is that he _wants_ me in exactly the same way I want him. Oh, God. I want him so bad, and it appears he wants me too. He can have me anyway he wants. On the porch steps, I don't care. So long as he has me. I've never wanted anything so bad in my entire life, except for him. The rush of lust I feel for him as my tongue tentatively meets the tip of his makes me dizzy.

He groans, and the glorious warmth spreads around me everywhere. And then, _oh please_ no-

He pulls away, and he turns his back on me so that he no longer is facing me. He stands leaning against the white railing on the porch for a very long moment. He's looking out at the dimly lit yard, at all the bouncing shadows and the moonlight, and I hear him give out a deep _whoosh_ of air through his mouth, as though he is terribly, terribly ashamed of himself and conflicted over the kiss.

_Turn around please._ _Don't be ashamed,_ my brain screams. _Kiss me again, if you like? Give me another kiss? I wanted it, too. And I loved it!_

He is silent for a very long moment. Just when I get to thinking about asking if he is alright, he speaks. Finally. "I'm so sorry, Sookie."

"Sorry for what?" My voice comes out small and flustered; Unrecognizable even to my ears.

"For kissing you, of course. I don't know what overcame me, just then. I think the alcohol had something to do with it, though. Partly the alcohol, that's it."

I try to look at his face, to judge how he is feeling on this. All I can see is the dark shape of his head, a blurry shadow of his features. After a moment, I climb to my feet. I can barely walk straight, I'm so shocked and happy over what he just did to me. I want to talk to him, but he can't seem to talk to me, let alone face looking at me. He doesn't want to.

"Eric?" I reach out, touch his shoulder with my hand cautiously. His entire back and shoulders go stiff and rigid. "What did I do wrong? Why won't you look at me, let alone so much as talk to me anymore? What's happening here?"

"It's not you, I promise. It's me. I think I should probably leave."

"Leave? But, hang on-" He turns and ignores me, climbing down the porch steps with urgency. I follow after him. "Wait, please. I'm glad, I'm really glad."

"You're glad?" He stops still and turns around to face me, his expression anxious and cautious. "Glad that I kissed you, is that it? You're glad?"

"I truly am." I wave my arms around at my sides desperately. "Honestly, I've... I..." I falter into an embarrassed silence. Why is it so hard to tell somebody you like them to their face? "Please don't apologize about what happened. Please don't say you're sorry about it, because I... I liked it, and I've been waiting for you to kiss me ever since Jason first introduced you to me as his friend all those years ago."

He steps back a few steps at my words and hangs his head, surprised by my confession. But why should he be so shocked?

"Can you hit me?"

"What?" I shake my head, confused.

"Just hit me." He gives me serious and desperate look. "Please, Sookie. I feel terrible, and I think I would feel better if you hit me for kissing you."

"_Hit_ you? Why on Earth would I do that? I don't_ want_ to hurt you."

"But I want you to hurt me. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry. You're Jason's little sister. I'm supposed to be his friend, and proper friend's don't take advantage of the other's friends sisters' when they're drunk. I don't know what overcame me, just then."

"Oh." I _finally_ get it. He feels bad because he didn't mean to do it. He didn't do it because he liked me, or reciprocated my secret feelings in some way. It's just an... _accidental_ kiss to him. I try to be mature and responsible about it, brushing it off with a wave of my hand. I straighten my shoulders, and swallow down the aching, wounded lump in my throat. "So... you didn't do it just because you have feelings for me? You're feeling drunk? It's fine. I understand."

"Shit," he spits out, rubbing his forehead with his hands. After a moment, he turns back to me, and takes hold of my hand gently. He looks panicked and frightened. "Don't take it the wrong way," he whispers contritely. "I really like you. I think you're the greatest girl."

"But?" I prompt, listening in carefully and waiting for the catch. _All right. So here it comes._

The infamous speech they always play in movies for awkward situations like this, where the guy apologizes and gives the girl a rueful smile. He likes her, but only in a friendly type of way. He tries to comfort her with words and puts things right.

"But I'm still with Pam, and you're Jason's little sister," he continues quietly. "A true friend doesn't go behind his buddies back and kisses his little sister- _even_ if _he is_ slightly intoxicated, all right? I'm really sorry about that." His eyes burn into mine with moist honesty. "I hope we will be able to get past this, and go on as though it never happened. It is just far too... complicated, and I..." He pauses, and clears his throat gently, as if he has something stuck in it. He gives my hand a firm squeeze with his fingers. "I really like you, Sookie. I've_ always_ liked you. But there are certain things that can never happen, certain boundaries that shouldn't ever be crossed. I value Jason's friendship too much and I enjoy your company, as well. I don't want things to be even more awkward between us now, because of this. Can you understand what I'm saying here?"

"I do." _He's trying to let me down easy._

"But know that I do like you, all right?" He tries to give me a small smile, and presses his fingers down into my hand again. "If things weren't like this, if you weren't Jason's little sister, I would totally consider asking you out."

I force myself to smile, even though I know he isn't being completely sincere here. He's just smooth-talking me to ease the wound, somehow. "You wouldn't ever ask me out. You're just saying that to be nice!"

"I'm not just saying that, and I swear I would." He smiles down at me. "Sookie Stackhouse is my dream girl in another lifetime, where Jason isn't one of my closest and best friends, and you weren't his actual sister. If Pam wasn't in the mix either, then I would _definitely_..." He falters and tosses his head, seemingly at a loss on what else to say on the matter.

I want to cry. It's so sweet of him.

"If everything was cool about this and if Jason didn't mind, which I_ know_ he would for a fact, I'd be asking you out."

"And, first thing I'd say, was a resounding 'Yes' in response to that!"

He sighs deeply, looking a tad wistful. "Well, I would hope so."

I laugh. "I would. I've been crushing on you ever since I can remember. It's silly, I know."

He grins and bends down to mutter something in my ear, but then the front door opens and Hoyt and Alcide appear, so he quickly releases my hand and moves away. The two men smile and come striding before us, and they are walking a little unevenly because they are drunk. Hoyt burps loudly into the air, and Alcide groans in disgust. I want to hear more from Eric, but instead he gives me a subtle wink, says, "Guess we're off now," and I have to push the idea away miserably.


	3. An Early Heaven

.

**Thank you all so much for your kind responses. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-)**

* * *

**Consuming **

I float up the stairs, high on the evening and my kiss experienced with Eric Northman.

I open the door and instantly hear Jason fussing around throwing away beer bottles into the trash. Off my own back, I help him clean up. The house can really be a mess after Jason's poker nights with the boys. I don't think I'll ever see a house look so messy, as it can be after a night with many men over gambling away their pay checks. It's cluttered with beer bottles, and someone spilt guacamole dip all over the table because their aim while tipsy was so sloppy. While wetting a sponge in the kitchen to clean down the table, I'm trying to refrain myself for the longest time possible into asking Jason about Eric. I know if I want good enough answers about him into his life, Jason is always the perfect guy to interrogate.

"Had a good night tonight with the guy's?" I ask him, managing to sound as nonchalant as I possibly can.

"Yeah, it was pretty good. I lost eighty bucks, though. That part of the night sucked balls."

"Eighty bucks?" I repeat, incredulous. Wow, that was bad. "Gosh, Jason. Eric told me he only lost fifty." Even so much as mentioning his name, I feel odd and mushy; like my limbs are made of noodles. "Gran would chuck a fit, if she found out," I scold him lightly.

"I know she would, but that's the entire point of playing poker. You gotta bet in a decent amount of money, or else what's the point? It's all part of the fun."

"What happened to Pam?" I ask, succeeding in sounding as if I don't care either way when it comes to that bitch.

"Oh, she left five minutes after you did with Tara."

_Oh._ "Oh. Did she?"

"Yeah. Eric was practically pushing her out of the front door onto the porch and forcing her to leave."

I feel a sordid surge of happiness over that, then instantly feel disgusted with myself. How cruel of me. "How long have they actually been together? Is it something serious between them two?"

"Something serious?" He bursts out laughing. "Nope, at least not to Eric. Eric says they've been having trouble in their relationship for months now. Apparently Pam is pushing him into thinking about getting engaged, but he doesn't want to. I mean, they're only young. Eric's twenty-six, so why should he get married already? It's weird, and apparently she is starting to get clingy. It really pisses him off." He sighs and looks a bit regretful. Well, as regretful as a drunk guy can look, of course. "I really shouldn't be talking about this with you. It's wrong."

"Do you think they'll ever break up?" I feel terrible for asking, but I'm kind of morbidly curious. And hopeful, in a sick way.

"Eric's mentioned to me about it a few times, but he's too chicken. He feels bad, since they practically live together. He's worried about hurting her feelings. I think Pam can tell something is up, though. I think that's why she has become so clingy. Eric tells me they don't even have sex anymore. Can you imagine that, being in a relationship with somebody and not even having sex anymore? It's like being an old married couple!"

Gah. I'm really learning way more into their relationship dramas than I should be... It feels terribly wrong.

"Plus, Eric's been telling me how he's been hooked on another girl for a while now. He thinks their relationship is definitely over, but he doesn't have the heart to tell her."

My heart freezes, and I still automatically from my compulsive cleaning around the table. _Was that girl me? Yeah, yeah, Sookie. Dream on. As if it would be you, you're practically a child to him... _I think about our conversation tonight. He said I was his Dream Girl. If things weren't so complicated... if his girlfriend was out of the way, if he dumped her and if... Jason wouldn't mind it, he would have asked me out... That's a pretty definite sign he likes me, right?

Jason goes on carelessly. "He's totally conflicted. He has the hots for another girl, but he doesn't even have enough balls to end it with Pam."

"Did he ever mention who the other girl he liked was?" I'm hanging on pins and needles, I'm so desperate. "Did he say her name?"

"Nope, he never." He shrugs dismissively. "But he broke down about it one time. It was really scary, I've never seen him like that before. Eric can be a real emotional guy, apparently. He was full-on crying about it; how he felt guilty, and sick with himself."

I nod sympathetically.

"He stepped outside tonight? Were you with him?"

Oh, shit. It all boils down to this. "Yeah. We just chatted for a bit, on how he lost fifty dollars in the last poker game tonight."

Jason studies me carefully, and I have to force myself not to look away, to meet his eyes to appear as though I'm not hiding anything. It's with tremendous effort, and I'm suddenly riddled with overwhelming guilt. Should I tell him about the kiss? Or no... I probably shouldn't. It's a big no-no, and I'd hate for it to ruin his friendship with Eric.

"He didn't break down to you, did he?" he asks, with concern.

"No, he didn't. He seemed... just fine to me. His usual self, really." _And he's a brilliant kisser, just like I imagined he would be. _I can still taste the remnants of his kiss on my tongue, and on my lips. The alcohol. The drunken desperation. Delicious.

"You don't think he's hot, do you?" he asks me after a moment, curling his mouth in distaste.

_Well, damn._ "Why? Do I seem like I do?" I ask cautiously.

"Don't know. I mean, I can _tell_ you do. It's in the way you stare at him." Oh, Jesus. Am I that obvious? Jason laughs loudly. "Hey, I don't blame you. He's a good looking guy, but you're my sister."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'd just hate for anyone to mess around with you. You're my sis; you're all I've got."

"Right." I force on a smile for him, and roll my eyes. "So, it's the protective brother thing, huh? Is that how it's gonna be?"

"_Of course_, it is. I love you, sis. I'd hate for anyone to hurt you."

"Yeah, Jason. Right back at you. But I'm a big girl now. I can look after myself, and one day you're gonna have to remember that!"

"I know, I know. You're a big girl now. But if anyone hurts my sis, they're fucking dead-meat."

"Oh, well. Thanks Jason," I whisper, pretending to be touched.

This conversation isn't turning out the way I'm expecting it would. Jason can be sweet and honest when he's drunk, I'm learning.

"Sis?"

"Yeah?" I peer up at him inquiringly.

"Thanks for helping me clean up. You're the best." I know he really means by this, is that he's pleased he'll still be in Gran's good-books.

"It's fine, Jason."

"Like I said, I love you."

"And like _I_ said, right back at you."

We smile at each other, and our conversations are finished for the night, which comes as a total relief to me.

Up in my room, I spend a ridiculous amount of time curled up in bed in my long sloppy-Joe night-shirt, assessing the evening through. I'm sleepless, and bursting with a blissful, restless energy from the kiss with Eric, Jason's closest friend, and our conversations shared afterwards. I stare up at the ceiling, and grin to myself foolishly. He said I was his dream girl. Jason also said he hasn't been invested in his relationship with bitchy Pam for quite some time now, and that he's been crushing on another girl. And, though it feels absolutely childish of me and a bit in bad taste, I catch myself wishing with such sheer aching desperation that that girl was somehow me. I close my eyes, touch my lips with my fingers, stroking around them, find myself wishing his lips were on me again.

The carnal exhilaration of his tongue greeting mine.

The taste, the warmth of his tongue, and the alcohol lingering on his saliva... Being kissed by Eric Northman is what I'm assuming crossing over into the great white peaceful light of Heaven feels like. Oh, God. His hands, his desperately seeking hands running up over my thighs, while he kissed me...

With my eyes closed and darkness surrounding me, it isn't all that difficult to envision that I'm somewhere else. Somewhere else, surrounded by him. And he's suddenly right with me. I run my hands down my long baggy shirt, slowly, caressing myself, imagining it's his hands and fingers doing all the work.

I'm ashamed to admit this happens to me a lot. Sometimes, I let my mind wander with decadence. I imagine things; conjure up different scenarios in my head, where he professes his love to me, his admiration. In my fantasies, I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm his age, and he sees me as this attractive young woman, who he can feel free to be with, and Jason's judgement doesn't matter. _If only... if only it were real..._

* * *

I don't see him again until the following weekend at the house. Jason has invited a group of his friend's over for a barbeque in the yard, and my Grandmother is more than merry to have people over. She likes Jason's friends, despite how overly boisterous they can be. I guess she knows fair well that's how men can be once they have a few drinks in them.

She goes over the list for me, while she marinades some ribs for Jason to cook on the barbecue: Alcide and Hoyt, of course. Lafayette, who is more so company for me, because he is gay and some of the boys find that awkward when he starts talking about different brands of nail polish and some male actors he is jonesing after. And, naturally, the best man will be here too. Eric.

"What about Pam, Eric's girlfriend?" I ask, waiting for the nail in my coffin.

My Grandmother looks absolutely clueless. "Oh, Eric has a girlfriend? Can't exactly blame him. He is a fine young lad." And, I have to agree whole-heartedly that _yes, yes he is_.

"So, is she coming or not?"

"I don't think so, honey. Jason didn't mention any girls. Strictly you and me. Aren't we lucky?" Gran is pleased as punch to be included in with the group of boys' Jason calls his buddies. Honestly, so am I. It means Jason isn't ashamed of me so much. I'm not invisible, and all the guys treat me very nicely.

The weather is cooperating very swimmingly. It's meant to be over thirty; The hottest we've had in Bon Temps for a long time. Perfect weather for barbeques.

Jason's friends start arriving at twelve o'clock. Of course, Eric is the first to arrive, and I was hoping to come across as a carefully composed young woman. Apparently, it is a lot harder to control yourself and your emotions in the throes of a consuming, secret crush.

My eyes fly right out the window into the front yard as his pick-up truck pulls up, and Jason stands by, waiting for him eagerly. It's impossible to keep my eyes from being drawn to him. He's dressed appropriately for the hot weather, in denim shorts and flip-flops. He's also wearing a baggy blue sleeveless shirt, with the _University of Tennessee_'s emblem on the front in red and white. He has a carton of Budweiser's hooked around his index finger as he climbs out of his truck and Jason engulfs him into a massive bear-hug. They say something to each other, slap each other on the back, and start walking towards the porch to come inside to store his beer in the refrigerator. He is grinning from ear to ear at something Jason is enthusiastically telling him.

My heart starts thumping against my chest like a wild, uncontrollable monster.

Gran goes wild once they come through the front door. She grabs him by the face, and he bends down so she can easily mash her lips against the side of his cheek. Gran has always loved Eric; That makes two of us. I stand around in the kitchen by the sink, waiting for it to come; A little harmless teasing remark, or so much as a generous, friendly hug in greeting.

Which doesn't come.

Jason puts his beer in the fridge and the bottles clang together gently.

Eric nods in my direction, a bit shyly, says hello and nothing else, and they both pass us back out into the yard. It leaves me feeling absolutely crestfallen. But hey, what did I expect? Hoyt arrives next, and he greets me like I'm his favourite person in the entire world. At least with him, I know where I stand, very clearly. Once Gran is done with the ribs, she goes outside and tells Jason to get the barbeque all fired-up. He keeps his careful distance from me as the day rolls on, which is upsetting. It's as though he is avoiding me like the plague. Lafayette takes off his shirt, showing me his glorious dark skin, and after some gentle coercion he convinces me to change into my bikini so we can lounge about in the sun so I can work on my tan in the pair of fold-out chaises in the yard and getting golden.

Lafayette sits out in the chair and waits for me obediently as I head inside to change into my summer-gear. I love sunbathing, but it tends to feel awkward when there is a pack of men around. Oh, well. Puberty has been extremely kind to me. I have substantially sized bosoms and curves, and I've seemed to have lost some baby-fat around my tummy. I change into my favourite white-and-black polka dot bikini and bring out some towels for Lafayette and I. The bikini is modest, but it still shows quite a slither of skin.

All the boys surrounding the barbeque, I notice, go reasonably quiet when I make my entrance back out into the yard in just my bikini, while I grasp some towels in my hands. There is a few whispered murmurs from Hoyt and Alcide, and as I peer over in their direction, I realize all the men are looking at me. Hoyt and Alcide look awed, which pleases me to no end, and grants me a bit of extra confidence. It's nice to be appreciated, every once in a while. Jason looks utterly indifferent by the sight of his little sister pouncing around in her bikini, and he manages to hide his shame well.

I toss a towel into Lafayette's lap and perch myself in the empty lounge chair beside him, crossing my legs. He whistles through his teeth at me, making some ridiculous remark that Jason's sister has turned into a little hottie, and asks where I've been hiding my body throughout the months.

Eventually, much to my relief, the boy's go back to their conversations of before.

I turn my head to look in their direction to discover Eric is staring at me. Well, he really is trying not to perve and be so obvious, bless him. But it _is_ obvious to me, obvious as anything.

The corners of my mouth pull up in satisfaction. _Yes, I'm not so much of a girl anymore. I'm almost a woman now. Stare all you want, boys._

After a few minutes, Alcide works his way over to me. He grips me by the shoulders with his strong hands firmly, giving me a little playful shake. "Jesus, Sookie," he rumbles out in astonishment. "Since when did Jason's sister become such a little beauty? You're going to break some hearts very soon. All the boys at your school are going to have to watch themselves!"

I smile down at my hands shyly, and clasp them in my lap. "Thanks, Alcide."

"Forget the boys at her school, man," Hoyt calls over to us, grinning. "My hearts breaking by the second."

It brings everyone's attention back onto me, my cheeks feel as red as a beet- and then there is a lot of laughter all at my expense.

"Quit it, guys," I warn them all, affronted. "Leave me alone!"

I steal a quick glance at Eric. He isn't looking, but he is grinning. God, he is so beautiful. Dreamy. Yum.

"I think I need to sit for a bit," he says after a moment. "This weather is making me light-headed. I'm fucking sweating like a beast, boys." And then, he comes over to me. My insides are screaming and clenching with joy. Finally, he isn't ignoring me. He tells me to shove over, so I twist my legs a bit to make room for him on the chair. He sits, and its a bit awkward, but I can't deny I'm totally loving it.

He leans into me, folding his muscular arms against his chest. "How'd you manage with that homework, Stackhouse?" Lifting a hand, he tugs on a strand of my hair playfully with his fingers. I want to die.

"Yeah, all right. I managed to finish it. Can't say whether or not I'll fail. Probably will, though. It was difficult."

I meet his eyes, and he gives me a little smile that seems nervous.

"Well, that's the way homework is meant to be. Difficult. It's all part of learning."

I roll my eyes and laugh. "Yeah, I know that." I manage a quick and brief peek at him again. "How are things with Pam?" I ask, hoping it's all right to do so.

His face falls and darkens. Purposefully, I think, he tears his blue eyes away from me and squints out at the sun. "Yeah, fine. Same old shit." He nudges his elbow gently into mine, and leans into my ear, almost secretively, "Hey, you want a Budweiser?"

"No," I gasp, in outrage. "Jason would kill you!"

"Oh, well. What he doesn't know won't kill him." He stands, and grins down at me, showing his beautiful straight teeth. "Come inside for a minute." He winks at me and suddenly, we are two conspirators defiantly working together.

"All right." I get to my feet, beaming like an idiot. I wrap my towel around myself, and follow him up the porch, pretending to be blasé about the whole thing so it won't rouse Jason's suspicions.

"Another secret between you and me?" he says, kind of flirtatious. I'm probably wrong, though.

"Of course. Just between you and me. I'm great at keeping secrets."

"I hope you're right on that, Stackhouse."

We get to the fridge and he checks the coast is clear of anyone, before he yanks it open and brings out a beer. He wrings the cap open effortlessly with his hand, and the muscles on his forearm flex marvellously along with the movement. I feel elated as he holds the beer out to me, basking in this brief moment of attention from him. I'm probably the most happiest damn girl in the world right now.

I take a quick experimented sip, and the Budweiser is nice and cold flowing down my throat. Fantastically refreshing.

"Hope this won't lead you down a destructive path of alcoholism," he jokes.

"As if!" I retort sarcastically. I hand the beer to him, and our hands touch.

"Your brother would never forgive me, for a lot of things," he says, and something tells me he isn't only talking about the sneaky sip of beer.

"It's like what you said before," I tease, "What my brother doesn't know won't kill him."

He puts the nozzle of his beer to his lips, pulls his head back, and takes in a huge mouthful. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows greedily, and he gives out a deep sigh of contentment for the beer, and licks his lips, parting them slightly. Suddenly, I'm willing him to kiss me silently with them. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life, than another kiss from him.

"I'm getting ready to end things with Pam," he tells me very seriously, after a beat, as though he feels its necessary for me to know. "I'm kind of interested in someone else. Someone I've been interested in for a very long time, but I... felt kind of unsure on whether to say anything to her. I don't know if she feels the same way, but its kind of complicated anyway. It isn't just a matter of whether or not she feels the same way, because other people are involved. People I don't want to hurt, and I don't want it to ruin things."

I think he is talking about me, indirectly. At least, I'm hoping he is. "I'm sure that girl feels the same way about you," I inform him nervously.

"Do you, now?" His look turns helpless and intense.

"I do. I _really_ do."

He sets his beer on the top of the refrigerator with ease, since he is so tall, and his look turns grim as he takes my hand and pulls me out into the hallway. He glances back towards the front door in the hallway to make sure no one is there, and then leads me up the stairs. He pushes me backwards into a room, and my heart is pounding. I place my hand on his chest to check and see if his is the same as mine, as he leans down to place his face inches away from my forehead; only much to my surprise, I can't feel anything. He mustn't be nervous at all.

_Wish I could say the same for myself..._

"I feel like I'm going nuts," he whispers against my lips, panting all over me loudly. He grasps the towel covering me and flings it down between us at our feet, and his hands runs up over my side, up my hips, caressing me urgently.

"That makes two of us," I breathe. I'm blushing furiously at his touch.

Eric smiles at me, then pushes me backwards against the wall, leaning his entire strong build into me. My hands start roaming, desperate and needy to touch him themselves; My fingers follow the curved outline of his broad shoulders; his heated and sweaty flesh. I run both hands around him everywhere, exploring. It's an early Heaven.

_**Sorry to leave it there. Please review and let me know your thoughts, if you will. It makes me want to write faster.**_


	4. Reign It In

.

**Thank you all so much for your kind responses. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-)**

* * *

**Consuming**

If I died right now, if something abruptly happened to me, I know I would die a peaceful, gloriously happy girl, because _he_ is kissing me, and his warm hands are doing some needful exploring of their own around my skin.

Taking him completely by surprise, I feel, I lean up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I kiss him, long and hard, and much to my satisfaction he is kissing me back, and meeting me halfway, without any protest or hesitation whatsoever in the matter.

I have to wonder why it has taken us so long to finally full-on make out with one another. Then again, I can easily think of quite a few blaring reasons. _Pamela. Jason_. But in this moment of time, they don't matter. They don't exist. Nothing else exists, but him and me. Just us, together, kissing it out, and thank the Lord, he's responding to me. Our tongues explore each other's teeth's, and I let my mind drift for a second there, pretending as if we're together, boyfriend and girlfriend, and there is no one else in the world, but_us_.

Naturally, I'm pulled out of that foolish and childish daydream, and reality comes seeping in to the surface cruelly.

Because all of a sudden, he stops kissing and touching me, and moves away to lean against the wall with a shoulder pressing into it. It leaves me hungry, completely aroused, and desperate for more. He rubs around his forehead with his fingers, panting. Once we've both seemed to manage to control our breaths, he glances down at me solemnly. He licks around his lips.

"Sorry," he says apprehensively.

"Why do you keep apologizing to me?" I laugh.

"I don't know why, Stackhouse." He laughs to himself, and blinks heavily, as if bewildered over that question himself. "I just don't think it's the right time for this. We shouldn't take it any further, much as I want to. We'd better get back out in the yard before anyone comes investigating."

I know what he truly means by that, is that he doesn't want _Jason_ coming upstairs and catching us out in the action. Truth be told, I don't exactly want that myself.

"A beer would be pretty good right now after an occasion like this. Pity I left it downstairs on the refrigerator. I'm an alcoholic, and you make me thirsty."

He grins at me, I smile back shyly, then he pushes off the wall. He looks around the room slowly, and its then I realize, with some uneasiness, that he has pushed me into my brother's room. My brother's room is about the messiest room I've ever seen, in all my entire life. My Grandmother is always castigating him into cleaning it up every once in a while, but as always, he doesn't listen to her. Typical boy stuff.

"You're not an alcoholic."

"Sure I am."

He grabs a pile of dirty socks and underwear off Jason's double bed, quickly disposes of them by plopping them down on the floor at his feet, then sits down heavily onto the mattress. He stares at me for a moment, impassive. And that's my cue to come sit by him. I reach down, grab my towel so I have enough time to make myself look decent, _just in case_, and step forward.

"You don't drink all that much, do you? I don't think you do. I only see you drink when you're around the boy's."

"Well, if Jason keeps hosting events like this, no doubt, I'm quickly on my way to becoming one." I lie down next to him on the bed, crossing my legs. I fling my towel into my lap, so I don't feel so awkward and exposed to him. "I used to drink a lot in high school. I cut down, though, when I almost killed myself."

"How'd you almost kill yourself?" I ask sympathetically.

"In a very smart move, I drove myself home. I almost drove straight into a fence, if I hadn't turned the wheel in time enough."

I'm horrified. "Yeah, drinking and driving isn't exactly a good mix."

"Well, glad you know that. You're obviously smarter than me."

"I only don't drink because Gran would literally disown me. Jason, too."

"Surely not. You're only young. It's your excuse to do some silly shit, and get away with it."

"I don't want to do silly shit, though. I've learned enough from Jason, and all the times he has been doing silly shit and the way my Grandmother's reaction was to that. He used to get grounded a lot."

"Well, it's good you have your brother and Grandmother around."

"What about your parents? Don't you have them around, or any brothers and sisters?"

"I don't have any brothers and sisters. Sometimes, I wish I did. I should have taken my father as a cautionary tale, though, into what can happen if you drink so much. My father, Godric... he is a real alcoholic. That's why my parent's got divorced, when I was younger; My mother couldn't stand his drinking any longer, because it would get to a point where he would get angry and uncontrollable so she left me with my old man."

"Oh. Do you see your mother much?"

"I don't. Last time I heard she was living in Jackson, Mississippi. Apparently she's remarried and has made a whole new exciting life for herself. She only sends me birthday cards, if she remembers to do even that."

"Do you still live with your dad?" I ask curiously, even though I know he doesn't. I know he lives with Pam. Maybe I'm subtly trying to bring her into the conversation, so he'll talk about her? It's horrible of me, I know.

"No, I don't." He sighs heavily. "I live with Pam. We've been living together for a little over four years now. Terrible idea, that was."

"Did you meet her in school?"

"I did. She was my first serious relationship. It went pretty fast, and, before I knew it, we were getting serious."

"Do you love her?" It bursts out of my mouth before I can manage to stop myself. I curse myself inwardly.

"Do I love her?" he repeats quietly, mostly to himself. "Sad thing is, I don't think I ever really did. Isn't that fucked-up?" His jaw hardens as he stares ahead of me, avoiding me. His expression shifts into something bleak and depressing. "I never loved her. I liked her. I liked her company, and the fact that everything was so easy. We could talk to each other, but it's more of a... friend thing, you know?" I don't know. At all. "I think, in some ways... I knew I never loved her. It was just easy, and simple, to pretend I did. It was like an exit thing; A way to get myself out of my sticky situation at home, with my old man. I was ready to move out by the time she suggested it, and I was so glad to be getting out of that trap of having to take care of my father. Isn't that pathetic? I didn't agree to moving out because of my relationship with Pam. I just used it as an easy way to get out of the home with my messed-up father. Isn't that ridiculous?"

"I'm so sorry." My voice is just a sad whisper.

He seems to shake himself roughly out of his heavy mind, and meets my eyes. He asks me about my real parents. What they did, how they died. I don't even remember how everything turned from careless and playful making out to serious and meaningful conversation, but it did. And somehow, talking about our lives and our troubles seemed so much more substantial than kissing.

"They died when I was about... seven, I think. I didn't even understand it at the time. I remember I kept annoying my Grandmother, asking when they would be coming home. At first, she lied and tried to make it easy on me, saying they were just on a long vacation. Even at their funeral, I never understood, until a few years later..." I smile over at him miserably. "We went down to their graves at the anniversary of their death, and I think it was then I realized. Seeing their graves, and their names engraved on the cold stone, it kind of made it more official, you know? It sunk in then that they really weren't coming back."

He jumps in after a moment, "Your Grandmother took the pair of you into her home? That's pretty amazing."

"Yes, she did." I smile fondly to myself. "Gran is an amazing woman."

"She is," he agrees, with total sincerity. "I wish I had someone like her. Someone who could have taken me away from my old man."

"So, you had to take in all that responsibility by yourself? You had to really take care of your dad?"

"I did, but he's my old man." He shrugs carelessly. "He's my blood. He took care of me, in his own way. Made sure there was food on the table so I wouldn't starve, so why shouldn't I have tried to do the same?"

"You think my Grandmother is amazing." I smile gently and a bit tentatively, I reach over the bed to place my hand flat on his. "She faced her own trials and tribulations, and she managed to overcome them. But you forget that _you're_ equally as amazing for overcoming your own, too..."

He turns his hand around and slowly intertwines his fingers through mine. My pulse races through the roof. "I'm amazing for that?" He looks extremely doubtful. He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Just for doing what I should have done for my old man off my own back?"

"Yes," I insist vehemently. "You are."

He adjusts his position on the bed a bit, so that his shoulder rests into mine. Skin on skin. I'm absolutely loving it. "And what about Pam? Am I still amazing, even though I don't have the decency to end it with her, like I ought to have? Am I still amazing even though I keep backing out on doing what I should have done years ago?"

"Yes." I nod honestly. "Even then, you_ still_ are. You're scared of hurting her, because you care about her feelings. That's a very good quality in a person."

He looks down at our hands, clenched and closed tightly together, and then slowly, I feel him lean over until his mouth is inches away from my ear. "I care about you," he says softly, in my ear. "Probably more than I've ever cared about anybody before."

"I hope so, because I care about you, too."

"You're pretty amazing yourself." Highly doubtful. "Hey, Stackhouse?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you ever lie awake thinking about me, and what it would be like?"

"I do." Boy, do I ever? "But I can't exactly go into great detail about the things I brood about. It's embarrassing and I wouldn't want to scare you away, or make you feel uncomfortable."

"I think about you, a lot." He kisses me on the side of my temple. I moan inwardly. "I think about what it would be like, with you. And then... sometimes, I feel pathetic, because Pam is lying in the bed right next to me. But I can't even bring myself to think of anything else, but you." I'm too discombobulated by his soft and low voice in my ear, his warm breath ricocheting off my skin, to fully understand his words. "I think about what it would be like to make love to you, how your skin would feel against me. The warmth, the softness of you and your skin..."

I become aware of myself breathing heavily. This is pretty hard-core and sexy stuff for a girl like me, who has been dreaming of the very same man who is whispering in her ear, painting images of what she has always longed after, secretly, in private.

"Do you think about me like that?" he breathes, his voice uneven. "Tell me you do, too, Stackhouse."

"I do," I confess, feeling hot all over._ I definitely do._

I throw a look over at him. He closes his eyes briefly, as if savouring my embarrassing admission.

And then someone calls out to us, someone from downstairs, halting our conversation immediately and slicing through all the heat filling me. Hoyt.

"Eric? Sookie? You guy's up there?"

"Shit," he grumbles, and quickly leans away from me. "Yeah?" he calls down to Hoyt, sounding normal. "What is it, man?"

"Lunch is served! Adele told me to get you two so you don't miss out! Alcide's being a pig!"

Eric puts his hand on his knee as Hoyt comes banging noisily up the stairs to find us. _At least we have his heavy footsteps as a warning... _I watch Eric as he hastily bends down and snatches something up off the floor. It's one of Jason's magazines, and he spreads the pages between us artfully, just in the nick of time as Hoyt comes around the corner, searching for us. Hoyt has some of Gran's famous marinade smeared all over the corner of his mouth, from the ribs. He looks like a grubby Redneck.

"What you two up to in here?" he asks, eyeing us suspiciously.

Eric holds up the magazine, admirably dead-pan and composed. "Stackhouse was showing me an article." He flips the page over for Hoyt to see. Hoyt's face cracks into a leering grin, as he bounds over to us for a closer look.

"Well, damn," he laughs, in admiration. "Check out the hooters on her!"

"Yeah, I was just telling Stackhouse the exact same thing. They can't be real, right?"

My stomach sinks, as it dawns onto me belatedly just what they're fussing over. A lady is making a contrived body position on the page of the magazine, and she isn't wearing a bra. She's letting her D-cups hang out freely. It's one of Jason's Playboy magazines. Perfect.

"Why're you looking at that girl's hooters for, Sookie?" Hoyt laughs loudly. "Are you a lesbian, or something?"

Bastard. "Yes, Hoyt," I say tartly, "I am a full-blown lesbian."

"Gosh." Hoyt's obviously taking it literally. His eyes bug out at me. "No wonder you ain't been hitting on any boy's at your school! It's always the best ones that bat for the same team. Isn't that right, Eric?"

"That's right," Eric agrees, without missing a beat. He's completely poker-faced. "Damn shame. Does your brother know about this? How would your Grandmother feel if she knew, Stackhouse?"

My eyes widen at him incredulously.

_Two bastards. I'm stuck with two bastards!_

"I am _not_ a lesbian," I shoot at the pair of them, offended. "I like men, but you guy's don't exactly fit the bill! I wouldn't call _either one_ of you decent men!"

"I'm a man," Hoyt says proudly, and to make his point, he unnecessarily cups himself in the groin with his hand. "I'm a man with a big pair of balls! I'm a _real_ man!"

I cringe away from him in disgust.

"Gross, Hoyt! _Don't_!"

"Christ, Hoyt," Eric scolds him. "That's fucking disgusting, man!"

"Oh, please. You're just jealous."

"Trust me, I'm not. Why should I be?" And it goes on like that, all the way downstairs and back out into the yard. Men can be foul and dirty sometimes, I swear.

And, apparently, so can_ I_ myself. I'm not _completely_ all that innocent. Though I'm a virgin and I've never been physical with a man, I've thought about it a few times, sure. Plus, since my best friend Tara has lost her virginity and has had casual sex a few times, I've asked her more times than I can count- plainly _out of curiosity-_ what it was like and how it felt when a man put his genitals inside a woman. I think it's in human-nature to be curious about things like that.

Holding a rib in a napkin and listening absentmindedly to the boy's while they eat, I find myself wondering about Eric. What would it _be like_ with him? He's older, he has no doubt had sex before, and experienced it all with a woman. He's a grown man. Beautiful well-built body that haunts me in my deepest, darkest fantasies. Nice big hands that feel a little calloused and rough to the touch. A hard-working man's hands, not puny teenage boy hands that would fumble around out of sheer inexperience, while touching you.

I feel an awful jolt of excitement that curbs all my hunger for the delicious ribs Gran has made for the barbeque.

I turn in my chair and look over at him.

He's licking his fingers with his tongue to get all the sauce off. He'd sure know how to use his tongue, his voice, and other things that can drive a girl wild. And his cock. How big would it be? I catch myself looking down there in the general direction at his denim shorts. What would it feel like? _Pamela knows. Oh, God, Sookie. You are such a pervert! The poor guy is just chowing down innocently on some grub, and already... you're thinking about things you shouldn't be thinking about! Get your mind out of the gutter, you silly-_

_Oh, crap. _He wipes his hands and fingers on the sides of his shorts, and gives a brief look in my direction.

Instantly, I feel dirty and disgusted with myself; like everybody somehow knows what I'm thinking about and deems me disgraceful. What is wrong with me?

A lop-sided grin greets his lips at me, and quickly, I shift in my chair and slump into it like a guilty, immoral girl. I stare down at my rib, feeling ill.

And then, I crumple it up in the napkin and dispose of it in the bin; my hunger thoroughly dead and gone.

I really need to _reign_ this crush of mine in. But then, I _really_ do want him to make love to me.

**Thanks so much for your sweet reviews. Please do keep them coming, as they inspire me to write, as silly as that sounds! I'm very pleased you're enjoying the story. And also, thanks for pointing out the 'degrees' thing. Guess that tells you I'm an Aussie. :)**


	5. Wanting

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**Thank you all so much for your kind responses. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-)**

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**Consuming**

I munch and nibble on the corners of my toast glumly, taking occasional glances over at my brother, who is carelessly minding his own business, cramming spoonful after spoonful of milk and cereal in his mouth.

I bite down on my tongue, then decide to bite the bullet and ask. What's the worst that can possibly happen, after all? There isn't any harm done in asking, right? I just can't keep it in any longer. "What would you do if I ever dated one of your friends from in your group?"

He just smiles and milk dribbles down the corners of his chin.

"Jason, _come on_. I'm being serious here." I peer over at him desperately. "Like what would you do? How would you feel about that?"

He evades the question by lifting the neck of his shirt and dabbing at his milk-stained skin sloppily. Then he remains silent, grinning at me again wordlessly.

It really starts to bug me. "Jason, answer me. For God sake, _stop_ ignoring me!"

His dumb smile finally vanishes. "Sis, which one of my friend's would want to date you?" I know he doesn't mean it to be cruel, he is just sincerely curious. He wants to know.

This conversation really isn't working out the way I planned it would. "I don't know." I think carefully for a moment, trying to rephrase the question so nobody gets into trouble. "It's just a made-up question. What if...?"

"What if one of my pal's wanted to date you?" Suddenly he looks uncomfortable. "Put yourself in my position, sis. If one of your friends wanted me to bone them right into next week, would you be cool with that? Honestly?"

"Which friend would wanna bone you? They all think you're disgusting!" I burst out laughing, just to show I'm playing. Jason smiles. "You physically repulse my friends. Especially Tara. She finds you extremely... cringe-worthy."

He pretends to cry. "Oh, thanks, sis. Thanks for the encouragement."

I laugh again. Jason doesn't smile or laugh along with me this time, and my playful mood thoroughly evaporates, as he leans forward across the table and says, quite gravely, "Has one of my friend's been bothering you? Have they tried the moves on you? You'd tell me so, right?"

Now it's my turn to feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and flustered.

"Jason, I'm a big girl now," I remind him, seriously and quietly. "You know I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, you're a big girl now," he hisses at me from across the table, "A big girl _not_ for _anyone_ of my friends. Is it Hoyt?" He shoots at me mercilessly, his eyes blazing with sudden anger. "Because I know how he can get around you. He says some seriously messed-up things in front of you. Is he bugging you?" I hear Gran come into the room from being outside gardening, and Jason's voice dramatically lowers, "Because... if he is, I will drop his ass so fast like trash, sis."

We fall into an angry silence, glowering at each other from opposite sides of the table.

"So, you'd be angry? That's practically what you're telling me?"

"Hell, yes," he whispers to me vehemently. "Hell, yes. I would be. There is a code of brotherhood. You don't go behind your friend's back and mess around with his sister! It's just not fucking on, sis. No fucking way!"

Gran comes into the room with grubby hands and fingers. She notices the tense atmosphere between us, and gives the pair of us a reproachful look. She can tell we've been arguing. "You two better be behaving yourselves," she tells us strictly. "And Jason; Once you're done with your breakfast, clean up the table, you messy boy. You've got milk everywhere!"

Jason dips his head like a good boy. "Yes, Gran," he promises obediently.

"What are you two looking so sullen about?" she inquires casually, while she hangs about around the kitchen sink, washing her hands in the running water through the tap.

"Gran, sis and I were just talking." Jason darts me a mean look, one that says to drop the conversation or else.

"About what, Jason? Hope you were being nice to your sister and minding your language." She says it with a clear note of warning in her voice for him.

"Of course I was, Gran!"

"I hope so. I let you get away with it in front of your friends, but around your sister, you will treat her with decency and respect, you hear?"

"Yes, Gran. I will, and I do."

Gran turns to look over at me with a sweet smile on her face. "Now, Sookie, sweetie. How about you come with me in the yard and let's do some planting?"

I'm hardly in the mood for gardening with Gran right now, but I just agree to help her. It makes Gran happy anyway. I gather my plate, toss the rest of my toast in the trash, and set it in the sink.

"Please, sis, don't be mad- I just don't want anyone hurting you. Especially not my friend's. I know the type of guys they are, and they're not the good type for you."

I give Jason a dirty look, _all is not forgiven_, _I'm no child_, and follow my Gran out into the front of the yard to help her. My Grandmother Adele is at her happiest when she is being productive out in the yard, basking in the sun and getting her fingers dirty. I help her with weeding near the front porch, catching myself feeling envious at how simple it seems for her to yank out weeds at a manic pace. Even for an old lady, she still has admirable strength in her bones. I think my Grandmother is the most beautiful woman in the world; the most strongest and empathetic woman I've ever known. I strive to be like her when I'm older, in so many ways more than just one. Her whitish long hair is fastened to her head and covered by her favourite straw-hat she always wears for her gardening duties, and she hums to herself absently- an unknown song to me- while she works her arthritic fingers to the bone. It's obvious to me that gardening is like therapy to my Gran, it makes her feel closer to nature and gives her respite after a gruelling day.

"You're hopeless at this, dear," she laughs at me, like a gleeful radiant child. "You need a firmer grip on the weeds. Don't be so gentle with it; It isn't like your going to kill the grass if you pull too hard, it'll always grow back, sweetie."

After a while, my attention has drifted, and I'm yanking with abandon. I haven't seen Eric since the barbeque last weekend, and not any day since then have I heard from him. Jason hasn't really been vocal on his friends, either. He's been keeping me in the dark- unintentionally. I hate that I'm this way. It's like something I can't stop, I have no control over my thoughts. I think about him a lot, about the kiss we shared, and his words. It's as if they won't ever leave my mind. It's somewhat depressing not having total control on what you think about, but when I think of him, his face, remembering his kiss and words... it's like my whole body lights up, I'm electrified. Those memories are constantly connected with my heart, and my heart races constantly like I've overdosed on caffeine whenever I think of him. Can people die of this? Who knows. I'm not even quite sure what _this_ is. Does he even know the state he's made me in? Does he even care? Unanswered mysteries of the universe. Always unanswered.

I just want. I am permanently in a state of wanting lately. I want him. I want to hear about him, I want to see him. I want. That's all. I am wanting him, always. I don't even know whether he feels the same way about me, but I've never felt this way before. Maybe this is a curse that comes along with being seventeen? Oh, God. Will it ever end, though? Things are different between us now. I want him to let me know, give me a sign somehow, that he feels it, too. That he's feeling. I feel like the greedy cookie monster pleading for cookies. I want. I want. I want. Give it to me- anything!

"You're getting better at it now," Gran commends quietly, breaking through my heart-wrenching desperation.

"Am I?"

"Oh, yes." She smiles at me, then leans back on her knees. "It's a beautiful day for gardening, isn't it?"

"Sure is, Gran. It definitely is."

When I look out over the yard and behind the rusty old shed separated from the house, I realize Eric is standing there. I halt from pulling out weeds automatically, and stiffen. He's trying to hide behind the shed, and failing miserably while he is at it. The stark-white shirt he is wearing sticks out in contrast from the faded blue colour of the garden shed and the sun reflects off it.

"What is it, dear?" Gran asks, concerned.

"Nothing," I tell her, managing to sound convincing.

"Is something over there? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, Gran," I lie. I stand quickly and my back cracks loudly with the movement. "I'll be back in just a second. I might get the rake out of the shed."

"Great idea," she says happily. "That's some smart thinking, girl. We need to rake up the weeds."

"Yes, Gran."

Eric stands very still up against the shed, then backs away out of sight as I approach him.

"Hey, what are you-" I start to whisper, astonished, but he quickly covers a hand over my mouth firmly, pressing roughly into my lips with his palm, and hushes me urgently. For some reason, him hiding is hilarious to me, and I crack up laughing against his palm. He grins down at me broadly, his smile bright like the sun, then shushes me again. "You're insane," I slur against his large hand, my voice coming out all weird and muffled.

He hushes me again sternly, then grabs one of my hands, pushing something in it. Something that feels all crinkly like paper. He starts to back away into the opposite direction, I stare after him questioningly, and he says, "See you later. Talk later." And then, just like that, he's... gone. I stare after him forlornly before glancing down at what he has pushed inside my hand. Paper. A note. I open it carefully, and there, his hand writing says in a small scribble:

_"Thinking about you all week. Breaking up with her. Don't tell Jason. X."_


	6. Stroking the Monkey

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**Thank you all so much for your kind responses. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-) Please let me know your thoughts; I am very much humbled by your responses.**

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**Consuming**

_"Shot to the heart and your to blame, darling, you give love a bad name..."_

The music blaring from the Jukebox in Merlotte's bar is loud, riveting, infectious.

When I close my eyes I am inside it, and Bon Jovi is crooning right to me.

I'm tossing my hair, shaking my hips and playing air-guitar along with Tara around the small dance-floor. The bass soars through the floor, pulses through me, pulses through me like a shot of liberating adrenaline to my system. But when I open my eyes I'm thrust suddenly back into the present, into reality: Bon Jovi isn't really singing personally to me; he is singing to over fifteen potentially drunk folks dancing around me. Heading out to Merlotte's until the late morning hours was practically all the fun people in Bon Temps could have. It was open to underage people- under the condition they wouldn't make the daring attempt to order alcoholic beverages or get their older, legal companions to do it for them. Tara and I came here tonight, as part of Jason's crew. They liked to get together like this occasionally every second weekend, get drunk and horny, and play some pool on the table in the corner of the room closed-off from the dance floor.

After some desperate pleading from me and Tara at Jason, he finally allowed us to come with him and his friends tonight. Tara and I just only felt in the mood for dancing to old music tonight, and not getting into trouble. I had also sworn to Jason that I would keep my distance from him and his friend's, and that I wouldn't humiliate him; which I was finding really no troublesome feat at this moment in time, to do.

Keeping distance from Jason, I was finding easier to do than I normally would. Eric and I were not exactly on speaking-terms anymore; He was back to avoiding me like the plague. At first, it stung me. I may have even cried and bitched about it to Tara for a few very long hours. But, as for tonight, I was playing along with him in acting as though the pair of us were invisible to one another. I'm starting to get used to it, in some ways. I'm used to pretending everything is fine, everything is great. It didn't mean it doesn't hurt my feelings.

He doesn't look my way anymore. I don't look his way.

He doesn't talk to me. I make sure not to go to great lengths to talk to him.

I didn't understand why he was being this way, after last weekend, where he hid behind my Grandmother's garden shed and when I approached, he literally pushed a letter into my hand to read, presenting me promises he swore he would keep. I still didn't know if he actually did end things with Pam for sure, or not. I did notice all the boy's in Jason's group were being extra mindful not to mention her in conversation, though.

I find I've become a little separated from Tara on the dance-floor, so I shimmy my way quickly beside her.

"You're really getting into it, girl," Tara laughs. And I guess, in some ways, I am.

I'm eager for distractions, eager to take my mind off him, and the pain of him ignoring me and treating me as though I'm invisible. I'm trying to beat him at his game, but I can't pretend it isn't difficult for me to pretend he doesn't exist, and that I don't miss his flattering and intoxicating attention, or want some form of acknowledgement from him. Sometimes I feel as if I'm in too deep. It's obvious he doesn't care. How else would it be so easy for him to keep his distance, and not for me? I hate being seventeen-years-old sometimes. I hate having a crush. It's so painful and agonizing. I've heard some people say it's a normal part of growing up; the lesson of unrequited love, or an unrequited crush, whatever.

It really feels like one mean lesson I could really do with skipping, though.

Without even being consciously aware I'm doing it, I catch myself looking into the direction of my silly older brother and his group of friend's. They are all in the middle of a game of pool; Alcide and Hoyt are sitting out on the sidelines with their beers and watching on, and Eric and Jason are competing against each other. You can tell how seriously these boy's are taking their game, because Eric's back is facing me, Jason's face isn't, and I can see how concentrated and intense his expression is as he bends slightly over the table with his cue stick angled in front of him to take his hit.

It's a pissing contest to see which better man wins.

Another song comes on, but I'm far too engrossed in staring off into the direction of where the boy's are hanging out at the pool table to notice. Eric's looking wonderful, as usual. He's never looked grotty, in all the times I've seen him. I swear he is one of those men that are fastidious about their appearance- but not overly. He just oozes casual cool and charm, in the way he dresses. He's wearing a short-sleeve, button-down orange shirt that reminds me of egg yolk, sunny side up, and a pair of faded denim jeans that hang loosely around his backside, with his sandals. He's also gotten his hair cut during the week. It's quite short and neater than it usually is, a crew-cut, and it shows off the masculine shape of his face and his prominent jawline wonderfully. Dismally, I wonder who the haircut is for._ Pam? Are they still on, or what?_

It equally disarms me and tortures me all at once, that even although I've been trying to put on a careless and unfazed facade in return when it comes to him, I still have that moment to check-out what he is wearing and appreciate it.

The rest of the night drags on.

Tara and I fit in a few more dances, and I fit in a few more sneaky glances into the direction of the pool table. Since my brother and him have finished their round together- Eric lost, Jason's looking impolitely smug- they stand around, sipping their beers and commentating to one another on Alcide Vs. Hoyt. I've never been more physically aware of someone else in my entire life; The reason I know he hasn't looked in my direction once, is because_ I've_ been staring at _him_ from across the floor. It's obvious he doesn't care anymore; He has changed his mind about what he wrote in the letter.

He has seen the light, probably realized I'm not worthy enough of his time, I'm still Jason's little sister to him, despite everything.

The shit hits the fan a moment later, when I spot Pam passing in through the crowd.

I think that's all the confirmation I needed for the evening. He's obviously still with bitchy Pam. He was only just avoiding me so that he wouldn't have to face-up to what we did; Making-out, having deep and meaningful conversation in Jason's messy room, etc.

I assess his reaction to her as she crosses over towards the boys; Much to my surprise, his reaction to her appearing in the bar is extremely hostile. His face cracks into abrupt anger, and she looks as pissed-off as he is. Jason and the boy's purposefully distance themselves from the pair, I notice. Jason looks worried as he watches on without interfering. I bring my eyes back to Eric and his girl. He says something to her, she throws her arms in the air, and then he is guiding her out of the bar with a hand wrapped around her wrist. Five minutes later, he comes back in, alone and looking frustrated. He grabs his beer, mutters something to Jason that makes my brother crack-up like a douche, and then Eric tilts his head into the direction of the dance-floor while raising the nozzle of his beer to his lips. I see him scan the crowd before his eyes fall onto me for the briefest and quickest moment imaginable. It seems a meaningful quick glance to me, that says, _Everything is cool now. I'm not ignoring you, and I still want you._ Then, the look between us is gone as quick as a wink, and he is turning his back on me.

Maybe they have ended things, after all?

* * *

I wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, with an intense urge to pee.

After the night at the bar winded down, everyone slowly parted ways; Alcide offered to drop Hoyt off home, because Hoyt had gotten so drunk he had difficulty in standing upright. There was no way in hell anyone would let him drive himself home in his state. Jason dropped Tara off home for me, and Eric tailed us in his pickup up towards Gran's house. It turned out: Jason had agreed to let Eric crash on the couch for the night. Jason might have also reluctantly filled me in that Eric was having difficulties with Pam, and that she wouldn't take breaking-up and ending their relationship as an option.

I drag the covers away from my body, slide my feet out of bed, and the instance the soles of my feet connect with the polished cold floorboards I'm shivering in my thin nylon nightgown. My desire to pee is instantly heightened from the goose-pimples raising all over my skin, and I shudder. I switch on my night-lamp so I'm not so blinded by the darkness and shadows covering my room, creak open my bedroom door and pad my way out into the hallway softly, cautiously. Halfway towards the bathroom door, I can hear Jason's muffled snores. His bedroom door is hanging halfway open.

Assuming it is safe, I pull open the door to the bathroom and flick on the light. Someone is mumbling out my name, very softly, very urgently like a caress, and desire hardens and toughens their low voice.

Someone jumps in alarm and cries out in shock as the light hits onto them without warning.

It's Eric. Somehow, it had slipped my memory in my half-asleep drowsy state of mind, that he was crashing at our house for the night. Maybe he had the exact same urge I had to pee, and we ran into each other by accident? It's the downside to having one bathroom, I guess.

"Jesus," he laughs out loud nervously, "You scared the living shit out of me!"

I gawk at him open-mouthed as he turns swiftly from the toilet bowl to look at me, startled. He isn't wearing a shirt. His jeans are midway down to his thighs; the zipper hanging undone. And his hand is wrapped around his erect penis. God, he is so delicious, even flustered and caught-out in an unquestionable position. He didn't come into the bathroom to pee, after all, like me. No, he was stroking the monkey- a term Tara has fondly used on several occasions about men masturbating. I notice I'm breathing heavily, unable to tear my eyes away from the discovery of him jerking off in the bathroom, of all places while chanting out my name reverentially, and it is the only sound in the world that I can hear. My all-too-loud breathing. My face feels on fire.

But then I notice he hastily pulls up his jeans over his backside to right himself. He doesn't fasten them, just lets his jeans hang loosely and freely. He looks flustered in a way I haven't ever seen him look before; His forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat that makes me want to forgo all sensibility and lick him like a cat. His cheeks even dot slightly with a light pinkness, and his lips are parted ever-so-slightly, as he tries to compose himself and regain his normal rhythm of breathing.

"Oh my stars. Sorry, I didn't realize anybody would be in here," I try to explain. My voice is just a mere embarrassed croak. I can't even look away from him. "I just assumed... since the light was off that I could just walk in and that nobody would be in here. I didn't realize."

He takes a slow step towards me, and it takes me a second to realize he isn't wearing any shoes or socks. For some reason, even his bare feet strike me as startlingly naked. He takes another step until he is standing right in front of me, and says, in a low and carefully controlled voice, "Maybe you should knock next time Stackhouse, huh?"

This incenses me. _I should knock? Maybe he should use common-sense and not stroke the monkey in someone else's house for goodness sake?_

"Well, maybe _you_ should turn on the light next time and warn somebody that you are in here?" I spit out at him, making sure to keep my voice just as low as his. "Maybe then it would spare us all from seeing something we don't exactly want to have to see?"

He smirks at me slyly, as he squeezes past me through the doorway. Then I hear him mutter out in the hallway, just as I'm about to snap the bathroom door shut, "Well, that's what you do to me, Stackhouse."

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**Hope you enjoyed this one? Please let me know? Was it terrible? Too rude ha-ha?**


	7. Property of EN

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

**Consuming**

When I slip back into my room after my late-night bathroom trip, I'm careful to close the door gently behind myself. I close my eyes tightly, lean my head against the wood of the door. Though my eyes are swallowed in darkness underneath my lids, his face instantly slips into my retina. The sight of him jerking-off in the shadows of the bathroom, the way he uttered my name compulsively underneath his breath while he stroked himself... It refuses to leave me, and curls my stomach, making me feel odd and funny inside.

_"Well, this is what you do to me, Stackhouse."_

I give him hard-ons? He strokes the monkey to images of me?

"'Boo' says the ghost," Eric's voice suddenly says from behind me.

I open my eyes, and turn, my heart in my mouth.

Still shirtless, shoeless, jeans open and all, Eric stands near my bed, bright-eyed with humour and cautious to my reaction at the discovery that he's sneaked in here.

I lean my back against the door and try to control my shock, as I meet his eyes from where he stands a short distance away. He smiles a smile that says, _I got you, I scared you_, and my stomach twists and I have to try to control movement of my face because I want to respond to his infectious smile on some level, yet on another, I don't.

I don't say anything in response. I can't, and I don't want to. I want to forget about what I just saw, what I just walked into unprepared. I can't, though, and like a pervert I loved the show.

I know what I want to do, and it's the right thing. I want to tell him to get out of my room, and yet, I don't. I don't want him to go at all, but I know telling him to is right.

"You've gotten your hair cut," I inform him instead, although he knows that himself. I'm stating the obvious here, but oh well.

"I did." His brow pulls up as he looks down. "I thought it was about time that I did. I felt I needed a change. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

He looks past his shoulder down at my bed. My beautiful, warm, comfortable bed that calls to me. "Can I hang-out in your room with you?" he asks uncertainly.

I crinkle my brow, breathless and unsure of what to say in response to that. _He wants to hang-out with me? At one in the damn morning?_

I can't seem to find my voice to answer coherently. He takes that as the green-signal to do whatever he wants anyway. He pulls up the sheets of my bed, and sits down, crossing his ankles. I dither self-consciously before giving in and laying down on my side beside him. What the hell. I've never had a male in my room before. There is always a first time for everything, though.

"Do you sometimes think I'm too young for you?" I blurt, the question that has been haunting me for a very long time now. "Is that why you're kind of... not interested in anything more with me? Is that why you're so... reluctant?"

He runs his fingers through his shorter hair, as he thinks my question through for a good few minutes. My fingers twitch at my sides, because I feel almost tempted to do it myself; To feel how soft his hair is, how short and different, than it used to be. But I don't. I'm a good girl. I keep my hands to myself and fold them over my belly instead, biting back on the temptation.

"I don't know, Stackhouse. But think about it: When I was, like, nine-years-old you were just a wee little baby in diapers." He smiles to himself broadly. I think he is purposefully trying to get my bristles up. "That's pretty creepy, when you think about it in that particular light, right?"

My stomach flops and dances with uneasiness. _Of course_, he does. _Of course_ he thinks it's weird. He can't see me as anything else but a younger girl, that is why he is so reluctant. But then didn't I catch him in the bathroom, stroking the monkey, while chanting my name in the air like a prayer to God? _What was that all about then, if he can only see me as a younger girl?_

I try to brush back the hurt I feel over what he has said, and fidget with the button on my nightgown. Then I picture myself in diapers, and him as this carefree, tall and lanky teenager. Suddenly, I loathe my age. I loathe being seventeen._ But what's new? Haven't I loathed it all along?_

"Are you okay over there, Stackhouse?" he asks after a while without really looking over at me.

"Mmmm," I nod, feeling caught out, though, and incredibly silly. Maybe my disappointment is easy for him to notice? I move my fingers up the slippery material of my nightgown, wishing things were different. Why bother, though? You can't change back time, and make yourself older, can you? "I'm just thinking that I disagree majorly with what you're saying here," I confess.

I turn on my side to look at his face. His mouth curls up slightly as he stares up at the ceiling. I've gotten him amused. "Doesn't surprise me that you do, Stackhouse. I was waiting for it. Took you long enough."

"Well, I honestly don't think it's about age. I think, when two people really connect, they connect for entirely other different reasons. They have things in common, and they both are compatible, so age doesn't really matter in the end." Yes, I've thought about it a lot, and it certainly shows in my voice. "You hear of lots of stories where people get married, and they've got, like... thirty-years difference between them in age, and yet, they still seem to make their marriage work. I don't necessarily feel as if age is a factor."

He thinks that over for a moment. Still, he doesn't dare glance over at me. He has his eyes glued to the ceiling in contemplation. "I guess you're right, Stackhouse. Plenty of people get together with bigger age differences than what we're working with here. It still wouldn't feel right, though. Honestly, I feel like a total shit. You're Jason's little sister. You're precious."

I grin, silently swooning a little at his light-heartedness. _He thinks I'm precious._

"You think I'm precious?"

"I do." He nods grimly. "You're like a precious little untouched diamond that can easily be corrupted and tainted if anyone bothers to put their grubby hands all over you. Why would I want to taint that, you know? I'd die inside if ever did that to you."

"What would make me less precious in your eyes then?" I ask wonderingly. "A sleeve of tattoos on my forearm and multiple piercings?" I pretend like I'm teasing, but I'm absolutely sincere. I'm dying to know. "Should I get a belly button piercing, then?" I muse casually, feeling the round hollow hole of my belly button through my nightgown with my fingernails. "Would that give me more of a chance with you if I got my belly pierced?"

He bursts out laughing at that. When I glance over at him curiously, he's shaking his head though. "Please, don't do that. For the love of God, don't do that to your skin."

"Why not?" I frown deeply. I'm pretty sure bitchy Pam would have some piercings, here and there. Maybe even in some unspeakable, private places. Maybe she has a nipple ring? I try to picture myself getting my nipples pierced, and cringe at the thought. How do people possibly do that? How do they not feel self-conscious showing their bodies off to the piercer? "Maybe that would help in making me seem less precious to you? I could get a belly piercing, nothing too big because Gran would ground me for months. But something dainty, and cute?"

He tosses his head again. "Please, don't."

"But why not? Would I seem more mature in your eyes, then?"

Finally, he looks at me. He throws an _are-you-serious_ look my way.

"Are you kidding me? You're the most mature person I know. Sometimes, it completely baffles me that you're younger than Jason. You don't do stupid things. You don't do silly shit, like drink or do careless things to yourself. All you do, is study and read and things." I sound so boring in his opinion. Gah, I study and read? Boring with a capital B. "Why would you bother getting a piercing? It's ridiculous."

"Why shouldn't I, though?"

"Because you're just perfect the way you are, Sookie." He meets my eyes, and his eyes shine with pure, bright honesty. "Don't think of changing for anyone. Not even for someone like me."

"I'm not perfect the way I am." _If I was, you would be all over me within a heartbeat._

"Sure, you are," he insists, without missing a beat. "Why would you want to ruin your body with stupid piercings, and shit? You think it'll make you look older? No, it'll make you look just silly. You'll regret it later, when you're older. You'll wonder why you even were being so stupid to get something like that."

"Does Pam have any body-piercings?" I can't even control it. The instance it flies out thoughtlessly, I feel a warm glow all over and ill with unease. I just want to know, though. I can't help it.

"She does, actually. She has her nipple pierced." I _knew_ it. I_ knew_ she would.

"Do you like women with piercings? Is that, like, your dream woman? Someone with multiple body piercings in outrageous places?"

"Don't you fucking dare think of go doing that to your body. Just don't, Stackhouse." Though his tone of voice is light and playful, I know he means it all the same. "Especially not doing that to your belly button, or any other places. Please, just don't."

"But why not?" I just don't understand why he is so against the idea. Pam has her nipple pierced, so what's the big deal?

"Because, honestly, I love your body the way it is. Especially your belly button. When you wore that bikini that time at the barbeque a few weeks ago, I saw your belly button. I thought it was the cutest fucking belly button I've ever seen on a female." He laughs to himself, a full-on belly laugh all at my belly buttons expense. My belly button adores the attention, though. He makes me feel all tingly and tender, by how soft and sweet his voice goes. "I swear, I love your belly button. Putting a piercing in that cute little thing would damage it for life."

My heart beats happily a notch faster at his words; I can feel it. I don't think he realizes what he has just said, though, and what it means for me.

His face spreads into a big and shy smile. He rubs my knee with his hand. Everything is so warm. He's so warm.

"What?" he asks cautiously, eyeing me curiously.

I feel my eyebrows pull up halfway to my hairline in incredulity. "You love my belly button? It's really the cutest you've ever seen?"

His smile grows as he glances down at where my belly button would be underneath the nylon of my gown quickly, then he brings his eyes back up to mine.

"I do. I honestly do, and it is. And that belly button belongs to me. I own it."

I burst out giggling. "You can't _own_ my belly button!"

Eric hushes me with a finger to his lips, reminding me to be quiet. I compress my lips together hastily to calm my laughter. "Ssh, we don't want your brother hearing and coming in here to investigate, remember?" He reminds me urgently. I nod. Take in a deep breath. The bout of giggles is under control, thank Jesus. His look turns deadly serious and intense. "And _I can_ own your belly button. I'm older than you, and what I say goes. Your belly button is mine."

Just like that, I don't feel like his best friend's little sister anymore. For once, I feel completely equal. We are equal. I feel closer to his equal than I ever have before.

"So, you love my belly button, huh?" I repeat, trying not to sound too happy.

"I do. And it's mine, Stackhouse. No one else is allowed to think of that belly button or touch it. It belongs to me. I am the only exception to that rule."

I feel like I'm floating on cloud nine. "Then if it's 'yours', aren't you gonna do something to make my belly button know for sure that it belongs to just you?" I feel more confident and courageous around him than I ever have before.

"Oh, it already knows who it belongs to. What should I do, though, just in case it forgets?"

"I can think of a few things you could do," I admit breathlessly, feeling a bit shy.

Now I've got his attention. He leans over a little on his elbow, bringing our faces closer. I feel surrounded by him, by all that he is, with his manly smell and with his heat and life.

"Like what? Name it, and I'll do it. I swear I'll do anything to put it in its place, and show it whose boss here."

"Kiss it then." It's like a needful, urgent demand that falls off my lips. "Kiss my belly button, and it's yours forever."

"Forever?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "So, that means it'll always be mine, even when you're dating someone?"

"Sure. I promise." He doesn't seem to understand that he is all I want- for life. Not anyone else. I don't even think it is possible for me to think of dating anyone else.

"So, I've got to kiss it?"

"You do. My belly button won't know it belongs to you, unless you do."

"How long do I have to kiss it for?"

I shrug, and feel my breathing quicken, as he gets to his knees on the mattress and lurches over me. He's getting prepared to do it. _Oh, be still my poor, lovelorn heart._ "However long you like."

"Can I tongue it? Can I slip my tongue in?"

I laugh out loud in disbelief. "You want to_ tongue_ my belly button?"

He's trying not to laugh himself. "Will you let me?"

"Sure. I think I'd let you do anything to me." And I hate how true that is.

"I will passionately kiss your belly button," he says decisively and puts his right knee carefully on the bed beside my leg.

Lying on my back with the back of my head resting against the pillow, I watch him nervously as he starts peeling up my nightgown, manoeuvring it carefully away from my skin. I feel my face go red as a beet- I'm on fire. I completely forgot that, in order to properly kiss my belly button, he would have to lift up my gown to get to it. I can hardly believe we're doing this. It's silly, but fun. He seriously wants to kiss it. He seriously wants to mark his property. Absent-mindedly, I'm reminded of dogs marking their territory by peeing. Thank Heavens he doesn't want to do that to me. He brings my gown up to my navel, and stops above an invisible line between proper and decent. He keeps himself mindfully polite, in not stealing a peek at my exposed, dorky underwear or my thighs; His eyes are planted resolutely on my belly button.

"Sookie Stackhouse's belly button," he announces with a voice above a whisper, gently, affectionately, "In kissing you, I mark and claim you as mine. You belong rightfully to E.N, and no one else." I try not to wiggle on the bed as he licks his lips slowly to moisten them.

Then, with a thumping heart and scattering mushy pulse, I watch as he bends down and marks what is his. I feel alive with burning tingling and as though I'm suffering from a dangerous fever, as I feel his lips close over my belly button softly.

"Tell me it's mine," he breathes into the cavity of my skin heatedly, and it's a stern command that tells me he isn't kidding. "It isn't valid unless you do, Stackhouse."

I giggle to myself, thinking how absurd the whole thing is. Can a part of someone actually belong to another person? When he applies his warm and wet tongue, tickling me, circling me, tasting me, I realize you actually probably can.

"Deal." I smile down at him. "My belly button is totally yours." _As is everything else,_ who am I kidding here?

"Mine," he says in a low voice, "This is mine."

He has his eyes closed as he finally leaves my poor belly alone in peace, lifting his head, and his smile is beatific, triumphant, and for the millionth time I catch myself wishing it were actually true. That some part of me truly was his, and that he was mine, and that in some alternate realm he felt the same way about me.

"Now it's your turn," I tell him matter-of-factly. "You've got something of me that belongs to you, and now it's my turn to have something of you that belongs to only me. It's only fair, isn't it?"

He reopens his eyes slowly, and glances down at my belly. He laughs and strokes around my belly with the tip of his index finger. "Sad thing is, Stackhouse, I think I already belong to you. You just don't know it."


	8. Skinny Dipping

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

**Consuming**

I open my eyes next morning, and everything is so warm. Everything is so hot. Somebody is snoring faintly, their chest pressed into my back and their arm draped over my shoulder, holding me close. Since when do I sleep with another person in my bed? Don't I usually sleep alone? I turn my head gently around on the pillow, as not to wake them, and Eric is sleeping, sleeping with me, in my bed, and dreaming deeply. Suddenly, I remember last night, my belly button remembers it, too, and I start to panic.

Eric. Eric is meant to be sleeping downstairs on the couch. He's not meant to be here, in my room, on my bed, half-naked without a shirt on. I really should wake him, warn him to get back downstairs before Gran wakes and Jason as well, but I find I can't. This is the closest I am ever going to get of him sleeping with me, and I bask in the moment. He sleeps beautifully. He looks so serene as he sleeps; his short hair wild and not in its usual controlled state. Bed-hair. Sex-hair.

He smiles in his sleep and tightens his arm around me. "Good morning, Stackhouse," he says gently. And then his eyes open, and he realizes. He has to get out of my room stat, before anyone sees him. In a reasonable and panicked response, he sits up quickly against my bedpost, squinting at me sleepily. "I fell asleep."

"I know you did. My belly button must have that effect on people."

He laughs to himself, as he does up his jeans. I try not to stare. "Hey, Stackhouse?"

My heart flutters with anticipation. "Yes, Northman?"

"Don't tell Jason I slept in here for the night, all right?"

"Tell Jason what?" I ask, with a straight face.

He bends down over me on the bed to ruffle my hair with his hand. I feel all pink with pleasure. "Well played, Stackhouse. Well played." Then, he says menacingly, "Don't forget that belly button belongs to me." _Oh, please. Like I could, though._

* * *

"Compton."

"Thornton."

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who do you think is the hottest girl in school?" Tara asks. We all fall silent, waiting for his answer eagerly.

Bill Compton pushes his glasses up over his nose, and his cheeks redden slightly. Then he points at me. My jaw drops to the floor. All the girl's in the group burst out giggling loudly. Terry- Arlene's boyfriend- slaps Bill on the shoulder in a congratulatory way. Then it's my turn. I play it safe, say Truth.

"Who do you think is hot?" Arlene Fowler asks me. I notice Bill watches me with hope.

"Uh, a guy. That's all I can really say on it," I manage, weakly.

"Dang it, look at you," Tara says, playfully scolding. "You are, like, cross-eyed with lust for that guy." She laughs loudly. "I know who he is. But if Sookie don't want to admit it to the group, then I won't either."

"Who is it?" Arlene asks, looking between Tara and myself.

I shrug my shoulders. She doesn't know Eric Northman anyway.

"Come on, Sook. Just spit it out. What is admitted into the circle, stays in the circle, all right?"

Everybody in the circle agrees vehemently. I give in against the peer pressure.

"Fine," I sigh miserably. "His name is Eric. He is one of my brother's close friends."

"Do you love him?" Arlene presses ruthlessly.

"Come on, now." Tara comes quickly to my aid. "She just admitted to who it was. She answered the original question, so leave her alone." I am sitting next to Tara, and I lean my head on her shoulder in gratitude. You can always count on your best friend to put people in their place. "Now, Fowler," Tara straightens up against me, plotting her revenge. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Arlene says, without hesitation boldly. She is the first in the group to say it, and I can almost feel Tara's brain working into quick gear, scheming and plotting various ways we can humiliate her. "All right, you know that small pond down near the cemetery? Well, I dare you to go skinny-dipping in it!"

"What!"

Tara smiles smugly. "You heard me. You gotta take off all your clothes, no exceptions, and swim in the pond."

Arlene stares her down, clearly full of disbelief and horror, then she slowly glances at Terry. "Terry, you once saw an alligator in there once, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did. People go fishing down in that pond. It ain't safe, especially not at ten o'clock on a weekend. What if-"

"No, no," Tara butts in firmly. "A dare is a dare. You picked dare, so you gotta do it!"

Arlene glances around the circle again. "Please, not by myself. I'm scared!"

Compton makes a strangled chicken noise at her, flapping his arms around. Terry bursts out laughing, much to Arlene's dismay.

"Please, you all gotta do it with me! There is no way in hell I'm going in there by myself!" She sends a pleading and desperate look my way. "Sookie, please!"

I point down at my crotch in my jeans. "Sorry, can't swim at this time of the mouth. Doctor's orders!" I don't really have my period, but I don't exactly feel like skinny dipping at this hour. As cruel as it was, I was up for watching Arlene do it, though.

Amy leans over to me. "Don't you wear tampons?"

"No, I don't know how to yet, Amy."

"Why don't you swim in the water anyway, Sookie?" Bill suggests. "Since it is dark, no one will notice."

"What? That's crazy, Compton!"

"It will be dark. No one will see if you have an accident."

"My sister did it once," Arlene cuts in. "She swam while she had her period, and it isn't like they say. If your flow isn't that heavy, no one will notice. It isn't like Jaws, where a big circle of blood surrounds you, if you get wet during your monthly visitor."

Tara jumps up, suddenly bold. "Fuck it. Let's all go swimming. Deal, guys?"

"I'm in," Amy says excited. She looks at Bill and Terry. "You guy's in? Terry, will you swim in the pond too, so your girl doesn't get scared? Lend her a hand?"

Terry makes a grunting noise at her. It sounds like an act of submission.

"Come on, Sook," Tara says, helping me up by an arm around my shoulder. I'm definitely not in the mood for swimming, but suddenly, since we're all doing it together as a group, it doesn't seem so bad after all.

"Wait, though," Amy says, looking at the two boys, "Us girls should get a head-start. We don't want you two seeing anything!"

"Come on, girl," Tara urges, smiling. Why is_ she_ so excited to skinny-dip? What if there is alligators down in the pond, like Terry said?

The pond is about fifteen minutes away from Tara's trailer. It's a hot-spot for people to go fishing of an afternoon. Sometimes my brother and his friend's even go, when they get the urge to go fishing. As for now, it is so dark and quiet with frogs croaking and deserted. Which, in all things considered, is perfect for a bunch of crazy teens getting naked and dipping into the pond.

Amy begins sprinting down towards the bank, stripping off her top and stepping out of her jeans as she runs. There is a splash as she jumps into the water, and then we hear her squealing.

"Shit, guys! The water is absolutely freezing! You all have to get in! You can't miss this!"

Arlene yells at the top of her lungs, pulls off her shirt, wiggles out of her skirt and underwear and goes in after Amy in no time.

Tara and I look at each other, then crack up at the craziness of the two girl's. She nudges me in the rubs playfully. "You ready?"

"I guess," I mutter reluctantly. "I'll meet you guys in there, in just a second."

"Fine, then. Suit yourself." Tara strips out of her clothes, I try not to look, and then she's off. She dives right into the black water, and all the girl's laugh, splashing each other. Carefully, I peel out of my shoes and socks, step out of my jeans, and dip my feet into the water. I shiver all over.

"Girl's, how can you possibly stand the cold?" I ask them in bewilderment.

"You get used to it, after a sec," Amy reassures me. "Just dive straight in, and you'll feel better once you kick around for a bit."

"Oh my God!" Arlene yells, and the other two laugh like maniacs. "I totally trod on something just then! It was super squishy and gross! What the hell is that?"

"It's probably moss," Tara says.

"Or maybe it's a big alligator getting ready to chomp off your legs," I tease, which makes them all scream in horror.

Just when I'm working up the courage to get naked, I hear Bill's teasing voice come from behind me, "Oh, ladies, look what I have here..."

I peer back at him. He's holding Tara, Amy, and Arlene's clothes in his hands, and what looks like to be my socks and jeans. Oh, hell no.

"Don't you dare, Compton," Arlene screeches, before I quite realize what is happening. In response, Bill laughs smugly to himself and takes off with their clothes.

"Oh my god, you guys," I whisper to them sadly, "Now what?"

"I know, I know," Tara says calmly. She cups her hands over her mouth, and bellows, "Compton, get back here, you piece of shit! I'm gonna kill you!"

At that, Amy and I crack up in hysterics. "Just chill, guys," she says, once her laughter has died down. "Chill, it's all very easy. We get out of the pond, and run all the way back home, to get some clothes."

"Run all the way back home?" Arlene cries. "Do you realize how stupid that is? We walked down a friggen road to get here! What if people drive past and then stop, and attempt to rape us?"

"It's okay," I tell them all, easier said than done, since I'm not the one buck naked like they are. "I'll cover for you, guys. If I hear a car coming, I'll make a signal and when I make the signal, you girl's have to hide in a bush, all right?"

"But what if they rape you, because they see you got no trousers on?"

"Then I'll use my kung-foo and whip their asses, all right, Arlene?"

"All right, Sook." She smiles at me sheepishly, then all three of them climb out of the water, dripping wet on the bank. We all look at each other, nod for encouragement, then start bolting. I am shivering now that my legs are exposed to the cold bite in the air, but I feel some sort of guilt, since no doubt the girl's are suffering way more than I am. They're the ones that are buck-naked, after all.

I feel scared when I hear squealing from the girl's. Oh, no. A car is driving up along the dirt path where the girl's are running, naked. I see the headlights, and then faintly see Tara and Amy taking a leap into the bushes. The car breaks loudly, and I hear a set of doors open, and men shouting drunkenly at Arlene in all her naked glory. I see Arlene standing there, like a deer caught in the headlights, shivering fiercely with stark-white, exposed skin and her fiery red hair. Then I see a scary bulkier figure approach her from the car, and I lose it.

"Hey!" I scream and start jogging towards poor Arlene. No way in hell was I going to let these people rape her. "Get the hell away from my friend, you dirt-bags!"

Oh, my god. A very familiar pick-up truck, I see through the dark. Four men. The bulky man standing near Arlene looks oddly enough like Alcide's same body-type.

"Don't you dare rape her!" I shout, standing in front of her protectively.

_Oh, shit. Oh, Jesus, no, no. It is Alcide. Hoyt, too. Jason and Eric. It's Eric's truck. Oh, awesome._ All men get out of the car and I can just about see Eric staring at my legs and my underwear from behind Jason's shoulder, while Jason is glaring at me furiously.

"Oh, hello Jason. Hey boys. Sorry, thought you were all about to hurt my friend Arlene over here." I bring my hand behind my back, and Arlene grasps onto it tightly.

"Goddamn it, Sookie!" Jason says, and he sounds mad. Real mad. "You go out for one night with your friends, and I find you all like this, naked? How am I meant to trust you, when you get up to funny business like this, sis? How would Gran feel, if she knew about this? You were meant to be at Tara's for the night, not getting fucking naked!"

"Oh, shut up, Jason! Get off your high horse! You've done way worse, and you know it!"

"Still, that's different! Your a girl! What if somebody saw you girl's like this, and molested you all? Put on your clothes, all of you! And put on your trousers, Sook! Now!"

"I can't! One of the guy's took our clothes, Jason!"

"You're hanging out with guy's? What the hell, Sook?" Lord, he sounds exactly like Dad or something.

"Relax, Jason," Eric says behind him, and I can see him grinning from where I stand. Bastard.

"Put on your clothes. Now!"

"We can't, I just told you, Jason!"

"What do you mean, you can't?"

_Oh, God. Isn't it obvious, Jason? Here, let me spell it out for you, numb-skull._ "I told you. One of the boys took our clothes. We all got dared to go skinny-dipping, and the guy snatched our clothes and ran off on us, all right?"

"God save us, Sookie, I can't believe this..." Jason goes on talking, while Alcide, being nice, unbuttoned his coat and hands it to one of the naked girl's hiding between the tree. Hoyt does the same, and flings his jumper off for Arlene, while Eric pulls his T-shirt off unnecessarily over his head, and hands it to me. Now he's naked on the waist up, anyhow. "I'll drop you four back off at Tara's," Jason says sullenly, marching ahead of us towards Eric's truck. I can tell he's mad. Super mad.

I tie Eric's shirt around my waist, and it covers my backside in my underwear luckily.

"Looks good on you," he whispers to me, and I flush with pleasure. "How is my belly button?"

I give an embarrassed laugh. "Your belly button is wonderful. Thanks for asking."

Jason hears _that_ as he yanks open the doors to the truck, and turns to glare at me. "Belly button? What the fuck is that all about?"

"Parties over now, girls," Alcide says gruffly to Amy and Tara.

Arlene cops an eye-full of shirtless Eric standing with me, and arches her eyebrows inquiringly, as if to say, _is that him? Jason's friend you have the hots for_? Quickly, I look away down at my bare feet.

Jason won't give up on the short ride towards Tara's house. We've all managed to squeeze into Eric's truck, which is uncomfortable and stuffy. "How could you be so dumb, sis? Why are there even men at Tara's? Why'd he take your trousers? You open your legs for him, or something?"

My jaw drops. I cannot believe the nerve he has to say that. I'm so livid, I'm speechless.

"Hey, man," Eric warns quietly from his place in the driver's seat. "That's uncalled for."

"Uncalled for, my balls."

"Jason, go to hell!" I spit at him from my seat.

"You're a slut, sis."

"Don't you _dare_ say that, you bastard! How dare you, Jason?"

Eric comes to my rescue surprisingly. "Don't call her that, Jason." Eric sounds just as insulted as I am. "Don't go fucking saying things like that to your sister, man. Just relax, all right?"

"Why do you care what I say to her, huh?"

"Just don't. Be nice to her. We did shit like this once, didn't we?"

"So?"

"So just don't go calling Sookie mean names, all right?"

"Since when do you have my sister's back? You love her or something?"

"What do you think, Jason? 'Course, I do. She's like my sister."

"Jesus Christ!" Alcide roars menacingly beside me in the backseat, coming to the rescue. "Both of you shut it! Just shut the hell up, before I lose my shit!"

And, just like that, everything is over and done with.


	9. Bathroom Orgasm

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

**Consuming**

The dress I'm wearing out with the boy's is skin-tight black silk tonight, but it stretches enough so that I can move and dance freely without feeling as though my intestines are getting painfully compressed. Jason - no surprises there, because he has been crabby with me all week- tells me I look like "trailer trash," but it isn't really his opinion on it that matters to me most.

Jason has treated me like dirt ever since he caught me with no trousers on and my group of girl-friend's naked. I just find it so hypocritical of him, but whenever I express that sentiment to him, he always turns a deaf ear to me, so I've been forced to surrender and give up ever since I tried to explain it to him reasonably the next morning, once I got home from sleeping over at Tara's.

Eric, Alcide, and Hoyt, I realize have already arrived and are waiting on Jason and myself in the middle of the bar.

They come over, and hug us both enthusiastically one by one.

When it is my turn to hug Eric, he says quietly so Jason doesn't overhear, "Hey, my belly button," and I take advantage of the moment presented by wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and pushing my cheek up against the material of his shirt bunching around his shoulder-blade. He seems cautious, and doesn't wrap his arms around me in response, but he bends down and brushes his cheek flat against mine briefly. He smells so good, and he's wearing men's cologne tonight. Just beautiful, and delicious all-around. "You look very nice," he says, then quickly looks away, glancing around the bar. "Where's your friend? Tara, I think her name is?"

"Yeah, she's not here tonight. It's just me hanging with you men. Lucky little old me."

He bites the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling, I think, at the boredness in my tone of voice. He turns back to look at Jason briefly, before turning his eyes on me again with worry. "How's he been?"

"Please, don't even get me started."

"He hasn't been calling you anymore mean names, has he?" he asks, with a touching amount of concern for me. _Why would he even care so much? It's not like I'm his girl, after all. No, he's far too concerned over what Jason would feel over that._

"No, he hasn't. Well, aside from tonight. Trailer trash." I laugh so that my hurt over that comment doesn't show.

"You look nice. Beautiful." He pats me on the shoulder quickly, reassuringly. "Fuck him."

"God, I really hate him sometimes," I confess, in a tired voice. I press the tips of my fingers into my forehead, rubbing around the tension, to stop myself from getting too frustrated with him. "He just really shits me. I wish he could just stop with the overprotective bull-crap for once! He's been like this ever since the whole skinny-dipping incident at Tara's."

I feel like I want to cry over my brother's irritating behaviour and the way he commented so harshly on the way I was dressed tonight; I'm_ that_ mad. But instead, I don't. I don't want to come across as a cry-baby to Eric. No, it's the very last thing I want to do. I want to seem mature for him, and interesting. A grown-up. _Yep, that's what I ultimately want._ I want for him to see me, most of all, as a grown-up. And, besides, I'm wearing mascara that isn't water-proof. I don't want to mess up my look.

In the only way I know how to cure my anger, my eyes fall straight on the dance-floor in Merlotte's. It is so crowded and inviting tonight, and people are tipsy and going-off to Prince's song, "When Doves Cry."

I gesture towards Eric awkwardly to come with me for a dance, but he simply shakes his head and follows Jason to the pool table like a faithful dog. _Oh well, fine then. Have it your way then._

Maybe it is the beautiful and somewhat apt choice of song, maybe it's my pent-up frustration with Jason treating me so meanly all week, and maybe it's a whole lot of sexual pining for Eric Northman that's doing it to me... but when I hit the dance floor, I hit it so hard a thirty-something-year-old male with a beer gut and a Harley Davidson T-shirt decides to join me. He slaps me on my behind rudely, and though he is disgusting and he smells like gasoline, I remain where I am and let the poor guy have his moment. I dance with him, making sure to keep some distance between us, though, so he doesn't get the wrong impression that I'm wanting more from him, when I definitely do not.

Feeling encouraged that I haven't made any negative reaction to him, the man gets bold and steps right up behind me, placing his hands on my hips and swerving me from side to side against his crotch. I'm letting him move me, to and fro, and he is none the happier by it. I glance over towards the pool table to where all the boys are, and I see Jason looking right my way with an unhappy look on his face.

_Huh, take that, brother of mine! Little girl, my perky behind!_

My eyes flit over to Eric, too, at their own accord, and he's bending over the table with his cue stick lined up between his fingers, but his eyes are... _right on me_. His look is dark and sinister; That's all I can find in words as to describe it. He is equally as unhappy as Jason is over me dancing with a dirty, grubby man, but for an entirely different reason altogether.

Is he... jealous maybe? _Well, too bad._

The guy behind me slips his hands up over my waist, feeling the slippery material of my dress, and I'm careful to force a cheesy smile on my lips to pretend as though I love his attention, when he whispers in my ear gruffly, "I love your moves, little lady."

"Oh, I'm enjoying yours too, Mister."

"Hey, after this, you wanna hook up later?" he breathes warmly down my neck, and I try to fight the urge to grimace in sheer disgust. _What a dirty sleazebag!_

I peer over at the pool table again. Eric is... nowhere to be seen and his stick is lying abandoned on the green table. Jason, however, is making frantic gestures at me to stop fooling around with the fellow.

I ignore him, and we dance for a bit more, until the thumping, saucy music comes to a stop. I excuse myself by telling him I need to use the ladies room, and move away from the dance-floor. I feel flustered and am dying for a glass of water. Being careful not to look Jason's way again, I start moving towards the bar. I feel a hand grasp my upper arm tightly, and gasp at their masculine strength. It's only Eric, thank Jesus.

"I need to talk to you, Stackhouse." He plunks his beer down on an empty table, steers me away from the crowd and where jerk-ass Jason is hanging about playing pool and trying to look all cool and not shitty with me, flings me past the bar, and down to one of the rat-maze hallways where the women's and men's restrooms are.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask, and then I laugh at how serious my voice is._ Hey, he's taking me far away from my brother. Only anything good can come out of it. Why should I be so concerned about where he is leading me?_

"Somewhere private where we can be alone."

He suddenly stops and looks around us, indecisive on choosing either the men's room or the ladies room. After a moment, he chooses the men's'. He pushes me through the door, and a few men are standing around urinating, and it's weird, but they don't send a single shifty look our way. He pushes me into an unused stall, clicks the lock into place so people can't walk in on us, and leans in until his hands are resting above my shoulders against the wall behind me.

I think he is asking, ever-so-politely, if he can kiss me, so I take matters into my own hands and make the first move, literally. I bring my hands up to cup either sides of his face, and I guess he takes that as his green-light, because he bends down and suddenly his mouth is on mine, exploring the insides of my mouth with abandon with his warm tongue. He slides his arms and hands down around me, bending me slightly backwards, pushing me off the wall and crushing me into him, and this is Heaven all over again. I respond to his kiss with urgent enthusiasm, purring and moaning to my heart's content like a cat on heat. When I pull away, breaking the kiss and gasping needily for air, his mouth takes a different direction, and he starts by kissing down along my throat to my collar bone, sending waves of pleasure all over.

I try to clamp my mouth shut to stifle a groan, but I slip up somewhere along the way. He laughs shakily into my skin.

_Fuck me,_ my brain screams, as his lips reach the curve of my breasts in the halter line of my dress. _Just fuck me already. Please, oh please!_

His lips travel up to my face, and just as he kisses the part below my ear, he whispers gently, "I don't like the idea of other guy's having their hands on you. I thought your belly button was just enough for me, but... it isn't, and that guy touching you; What a fucking low-life piece of shit!"

Yep; He definitely _was_ jealous over it before. It makes me pleased and thrills me in some weird sense.

His teeth nip on the rim of my earlobe, and I feel myself shudder against him at the odd pull-tug sensation it presents.

I'm totally swooning for him like crazy. "Then all of me can be yours," I whisper desperately, "Just be with me, and I'm yours for however long you want me..."

He groans and dips his head back to attack my neck again, nipping it, finally, _finally_ pushing his groin up against me so I can feel him. The button on his jeans presents enough friction to hit me where I need it most, and I catch myself pushing back into him, rocking back and forth, back and forth with my hips to create my own kind of friction. He moans, and I can feel how excited and turned-on he is by the friction against the crotch of his jeans himself.

"That feels good to you, huh?" I breathe knowingly, with a smile spreading across my lips. I do it again, and again, harder this time, rougher, and he makes a few hoarse noises to make his assent known to me very clearly. I slide my arms underneath his, and trail them underneath his shirt, feeling his skin and along the muscles of his back, and he's so warm, so so warm, and amazing.

And then there's an awful splattering noise in the toilet bowel from the stall right next to us, but astonishingly, it doesn't kill the moment one bit. We just shake with silent laughter, and when the toilet flushes loudly, he starts a rhythmic thrusting of his cock against my dress. His breathing sounds ragged, feels hot against my skin, and so does mine, and I begin to worry that we're possibly going to be stuck in here all night, if he doesn't... doesn't... end it soon.

I just can't take it anymore. The waiting, pleasure, friction, _everything_... is excruciating and equally heavenly.

"Please," I whimper, "Just fuck me in here already." I've never been so crude in my entire life, but I guess when someone is so turned-on to this degree, politeness is clearly instantly forgotten and taking a back-seat. "_Goddamn_ it, I _need_ it! I _need_ a release!"

He stops so abruptly, so cruelly, with his kissing, and starts to back-off. _No, no. Fuck no!_

"Do you really want me to?" he asks hoarsely.

His gaze is intense and searching for my consent, as he pulls back to look me deeply in the eyes. Forcing myself to hold his eyes, I take hold of one of his hands, guide it carefully underneath my dress, and plunge it into my panties so he can feel for himself just how turned-on and ready he has gotten me, how wet and aroused I am. I want him to feel it himself, feel it himself with his fingertips...

"Jesus," he mumbles nervously, and he makes a beautiful noise that comes along from the very inside of his throat as he strokes around my center with one finger, then two, and three, curling in a circular motion to truly feel it. "Shit."

He goes to remove his hand and fingers away, and one of my hands quickly snatches out to grab his wrist tightly to hold it in place, my fingers wrapping roughly around his skin.

He sighs deeply through his mouth, and fixes a stern and scolding look onto me. "Why are you making this so fucking hard on me?" he breathes, in a low and sad voice. "_Why_, Stackhouse? Why? Can't you see I'm trying to do the right thing here, the responsible thing?"

"This _is_ the right thing," I argue hastily. "This is right, this is responsible, and you know it."

"But I don't have anything on me right now for this." It takes it a moment to register into my fuzzy brain that he means he doesn't have any protection on him, any condoms.

"I don't care. You don't have to worry about being decent and polite around me anymore. Just do it, please. I need it from you. It's what I've always wanted from you."

"What?" His voice goes quieter and harsher with disbelief. "You've always wanted me to fuck you, like this, in a bathroom stall while people shit around us?"

I try not to laugh at his use of words, fail. But he smiles gently, too.

"So not quite like this. But almost."

I reach out and grab his shirt, giving him an encouraging little yank. One of the buttons comes undone and his chest peeks through, spattered with the smallest smidgen of fair hair. I slide my fingers underneath the gap, searching around for one of his nipples, and I pinch it, hard. He jolts and I can see by the way his jaw twitches that he is clenching his teeth tightly together to restrain himself from making too much noise. He looks stricken and undecided for half a minute, before without warning, he falls down on one knee and runs his hands up my legs, delving up and around for the band of my underwear at my hips. He pulls my underwear down apologetically to my ankles, lifts my heels a fraction to get them free.

Then he stands quickly, while stowing my underwear into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I don't care that you don't have a condom on you," I tell him seriously.

He looks grave, and full of conflicting wants. I know on one hand, he wants it with me, right here and now. On the other, he doesn't want to risk it.

He slides his hand back underneath my dress, _right there_, and I feel all my muscles bunch up and clench around his fingers. And then his mouth is on me again, our tongues are swirling, and his fingers start rubbing me, up and down, up and down. It is unlike anything I have ever felt before. I've touched myself before, sure. But I've never had someone else do it for me, and that makes it all the more unbelievably sexier.

I can hardly believe this is real, that this is even happening. I've spend God knows how long lusting over this man, over this _same man_ who is stroking me intimately with his hand in a public place in the closed-off stall in the men's room of Merlotte's bar, and it is the best feeling in the world. A dream come true. Fruition, _finally_.

Somehow, Merlotte's bar will never seem quite the same to me ever again. Something tells me I will constantly be reliving this very moment forever, and I don't want it to end, ever.

I can feel myself reaching to that point, that blissful point of coming undone and orgasming, because I feel all my muscles clench up and stiffen, and it seems to hit me so quickly and vastly I have to bury my face into his shirt to stifle the loud moan that erupts out from my parted lips over the intense wave of pleasure that hits me instantaneously, then just as quickly subsides.

He smiles at me as my knees weaken, my legs threaten to buckle out from underneath me, and I have to grab the wall quickly for support to steady myself. My heart is thumping in my ears, and no other sound exists, only sight, and I see him bring his fingers up to his lips and suck the tips of them, and its simultaneously the most naughtiest and sexiest sight ever in seeing him lick the _exact same_ fingers that were stroking me intimately barely seconds ago.

He smiles at me sheepishly as I huff out a deep breath, and whispers conspiratorial in my ear, "You enjoyed that, huh?"

"I did," I laugh out loud breathlessly.

"Well, that makes two of us."

I crack up laughing again weakly, and try feebly to fan my flushed face.

"I'm going to want you, for real, another time. Hopefully when I have condoms, but as for now, you're going to have to leave me alone for a second."

I arch my eyebrows up at him, not quite understanding what he means by that. But then as he plucks open the button to his jeans and shoves his hand inside, I think I realize.

"Need some help with that?" I offer, teasing him.

"I would, but it would be best if you get back out there before anyone notices the pair of us are gone, Stackhouse." As per usual, he is right. I smile at him glumly, and he unlocks the door for me. "I'll be out in a few minutes, I've just got to take care of my own business right now." He stands by the wall to let me pass, and stares after me longingly in a way that makes my bones feel like jelly, before closing the door to the stall back up securely on himself.

I'm a bit wobbly in my heels, and a few men dart me strange looks from by the urinals, but they don't matter. Nothing matters, except what we just did. What he just did, to me. I'm floating on a wave of euphoria, yet I'm still not sure I want to believe, in case I wake up and it has all been just some dream my mind has conjured up for me.

I walk down the hallway, and follow the loud music coming from the Jukebox. I feel funny, between my legs, so bare, and it takes me a moment to realize it is because I'm not wearing any underwear, and he stole it. My underwear is in the back pocket of his jeans. _How sneaky of him._

_"_Hey, boys," I call, coming to stand awkward near Alcide, who is leaning over the pool table and racking up the balls for a new game. "What's happening, my good manly pals?"

Alcide throws a funny look my way; His dark eyebrows raised. "Have you seen Eric, by any chance?"

Oh, crap. "Um, I passed him on the way to the bathroom. There was a humongous line filling to get into the men's bathroom. He told me to tell you-all he'll be waiting to take a leak." I wince slightly the instance it falls from my mouth. Was that too obvious? Well, damn. No one else seems to react though, aside from Hoyt, who laughs loudly. He's looking a little flushed himself- from alcohol- and his eye's look a little woozy.

"Probably those meat pies we ate before we came here. I swear they had beans in them. I been passing wind all night."

I pull a face at him. "Gross, Hoyt. T.M.I."

"What's that mean?"

"Too much information, knuckle-head," Eric's voice suddenly says, and I almost shriek and wiggle around with guilt. He's returned from the bathroom, his arms folded across his chest, as he stands by Jason, looking as calm and neutral as a summer's day. He's careful not to meet my eye- which is, in all things considered, a good thing.

Hoyt burps loudly and rudely near me. Yep, he's definitely one drunk dude.

"I think Hoyt needs some water," Eric suggests casually, jerking a thumb over into the direction of the bar. "Be right back. I'll get some water."

As I watch him weave his way through the crowd towards the bar, I see my underwear hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans. I gulp inwardly.

"Hey, uh. Be right back."

"Where you going?" Jason asks, a bit on the rude side.

"To get some water with Eric. I'm parched. Not that it's any of your beeswax, Jason," I call back. I walk quickly to where Eric is through the crowd, and dip my fingers violently into the back pocket of his jeans to properly conceal all evidence. He shoots a mean look over his shoulder at me, then instantly relaxes the second he realizes who it is.

"Jesus, Stackhouse. I thought you were some random person copping a feel of my ass. I was just about to sock you one, tell you the only way I go is the Sookie Stackhouse way."

"Well, you should try being a little more careful, please."

"What? Why's that?" he asks, looking sincerely confused.

"Your souvenir was hanging out of your back pocket for all eyes to see," I tell him, trying my mighty hardest not to grin.

"I got another one right here." And crudely, he grins at me and rubs the tips of his fingers together. "Never washing this hand for weeks."

"Shut up, you dirty, filthy man."

"Oh, come off it. You love it. I felt it with my own fingers myself, just how much so you enjoy it."

I turn on my heel and flounce back over to the pool table, beaming. _Yes, oh, yes. I enjoy it. I enjoy it indeed._

**_Hope you enjoyed this one? This was my first attempt at writing a rather sexual thing haha, so can anyone say... awkward?! Hope you enjoyed it none the less. Feel free to let me know if it was terrible! Gah!_**

**_What do you think of this version of Sookie and Eric? Like? Hate? Annoyed? _**


	10. Your Mine

**Thank you all for being so lovely **

**Hope you enjoy this one :)**

* * *

_**Chapter Ten**_

My orgasmic high experienced in the men's bathroom and afterwards is thoroughly diminished on the drive home in Jason's car.

"Are you and Eric like... butt-buddies now or something?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying," he goes on irritatingly. "You two hang out a lot lately. You followed him to the bar to get water. You disappear at the same time he does to use the bathroom, then the pair of you practically come out at the same time, and you come back looking... _weird_. What's going on there?"

"What do you mean, Jason?" I ask coldly. "So what? It's not _cool_ for me to get along with your friends, is that it?"

"No, sis. I'm not saying that. It's just... I don't know." He sighs warily. "You know he's still on the outs with Pam, right?"

Is he? Oh, wow. "Why does that concern me?"

"How would she feel, if she saw how the pair of you literally follow each other around?"

Honestly, it's horrible, but I don't really care what bitchy Pam will think one bit. "Look, Jason. We're just friends, all right?" I want to be more. He doesn't. End of discussion. Finished.

"And _what_ was _with_ you dirty dancing with that old fart tonight?" _Oh, God. Here it comes, another lecture. All because of the old guy I danced to one Prince song with that smelt like gasoline. "_What were you thinking, Sook? He looked like he only just got out of prison for raping someone."

"Jason Corbett Stackhouse, it was all just for a little bit of harmless fun," I mutter indignantly. "You used to have fun when you were my age, right? So, please stop being so judgmental into the way I choose to live my life. And while we're at it, please stop trying to control me. Just get off your damn high-horse."

Jason is turning out to be the most hypocritical person I know. Back when I was a bit younger, I went into his bedroom one time looking for the stapler he had in his room to staple my homework assignments together, and rather instead of finding the staplers, I remember I found an entire box filled with condoms in his top drawer. Sometimes he has girls over, and they don't look all that modest and innocent. So how dare he feel he has God given right to judge me? At least I didn't have boys over in my room, and I wasn't having sex. So, really... it was _completely_ unjustified of him. There are plenty of girl's my age and younger that I knew of at school that did _way_ worse things. Some I know to get high on marijuana, and one girl has slept with the entire football team. I don't drink, I don't do drugs, I let his friend touch me in the dirty men's bathroom- which wasn't very smart, and it isn't exactly the most sanitary of places to do such a thing- but _come on_!

"Jason, what about that time I found condoms in your bedroom drawer? Not to mention I know you have a sneaky pile of Playboy magazines stashed away in there somewhere."

His face drops. I have the upper hand now. _Hallelujah. Go me!_

"And I sure know for a fact that sometimes you sneak random ladies into your room for sex, when you know Gran has gone to bed and there will be a minimum chance of getting caught. I haven't ratted you out on Gran, and despite how rude and mean you've been to me lately, I never would. You're my brother, and I love you, despite all your perilous flaws. So cut me some slack here!"

As we reach the driveway home, I turn to him again while unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Oh, and _another_ thing, Jason. My eighteenth birthday is coming up next week, which no doubt you've probably already forgotten all about it. Well, anyway; Once I turn eighteen,_ you_, from then on are just going to have to suck it up and refrain from commenting on the way I do things! This is _my_ life! I'm allowed to do silly shit. This is all part of learning. And once I hit eighteen next week, I might do a few little things you won't be very proud of. Hell, I may even have sex. So, tough shit and go eat dirt, you hypocrite." I gather up the last shreds of my dignity off the floor of his car, climb out, and slam the door shut on his comically astonished face.

_Showing someone who is boss has never felt better, quite frankly._

For five minutes once I get inside , I stand in a hot shower, letting the water run over my head and body, while ruminating over the wild evening at Merlotte's. I can hardly get my head around it. I'm almost afraid to believe it even really happened, and yet, at the same time, I'm kind of wishing it _was_ just a foolish dream. I'd feel better if it was just another fantasy I've indulged in, because now acknowledging that what we shared was real in the horrible bathroom stall at Merlotte's, I feel almost scummy and cheap. I feel remorseful, in a sense, over my behaviour. When Eric was touching me intimately, I was _so into it_ I would have considered going _all the way_ with him. My behaviour was childish and embarrassing in there, but in my defence, I was pretty aroused.

Looking back, I feel like a dirty, slutty teenager wearing a short T-shirt that says: _"Take my virginity, please! Oh, please! Screw the fact you don't have any condoms, and the risk of me getting pregnant! Let's just get it on like two animals in the wild!" _

In hindsight, I realize how right and responsible he was in protesting against it.

After all, who has sex up against a graffiti-covered, germy wall inside a men's bathroom? It isn't exactly something you want to reveal to your daughter twenty-years from now, while discussing the topic of the Birds and the Bees. "Oh, your mommy had her first time in a cubical in a men's restroom while other men around them were peeing and doing their business..." Yeah, it isn't exactly something you would be proud to admit to your kiddos in the future.

On one hand, I'm totally ecstatic. The walls of his reluctance came tumbling down for a brief few hours over the fact he was conflicted it felt morally wrong because I was his pal's little sister. That side of it was wonderful. On another, I feel mortified, and it's bound to make things a little more awkward next time we're near each other. He still has my underwear, too. _Awesome._

Jason's words come back to mind on the drive home. Eric is still on the outs with Pam. Does that mean they haven't actually broken up- or what? Truth be told, I haven't felt right asking him on that. The last few times I did, where we had that conversation in Jason's bedroom, on how he felt compelled to move in with her for various reasons, other than because he truly wanted to, I could see how much talking about her discomforted him. I've been trying to avoid it, but of course, I slipped up, out of sheer curiosity. What if they are still together? I'm not too sure how I would feel about that. It isn't that I wouldn't be happy, because I want him for myself, but... since we just committed a cardinal sin in the men's bathroom tonight, if Eric was still with Pam... it would make me feel even more terrible than I already did.

I don't want to be the third wheel. The girl he cheated with. The girl he dumped the girlfriend for. I don't want that at all.

In a way to stop my obsessive thoughts, I hop out of the shower and distract myself by changing into my pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeve shirt to wear to bed. I take time to comb out my hair, but surely enough, my thoughts drift yet again to what happened tonight. What happened in the men's restrooms was a pretty solid indicator that he liked me, right? Right?

_Oh, gee-whiz. Get over it now, Stackhouse._

In the only way I can think of how to, I head into my bedroom, flick off the light, and dive head-first into my pillow. Luckily, after a few minutes, I'm out.

* * *

When I wake, my alarm goes off at seven-thirty. School day. Meh.

I throw myself into getting changed into a pair of jeans, Converse sneakers, a baggy shirt, and a knitted, long-sleeved cardigan on top that, in my viewpoint at least, is a little dorky and childish with yellow stars woven into it. I tie my hair into a loose ponytail, and head downstairs.

I hear someone in the shower, which I'm assuming is Jason getting clean and ready for work. Jason works as part of the road crew, and spends his days graveling pot-holes and cementing in new, smoother roads of the parish of Bon Temps. It's practically another excuse for Jason to hang with all his friends, including Eric. They all worked as part of the road crew, until three-thirty in the afternoon. Then, they clocked-off and did whatever mischief men get up to. I think that is also why Eric has such a fine, athletic body- not that I've been looking too hard, or anything. Oh, who the heck am I kidding?

He's like the flame, and I'm the moth. My eyes are constantly drawn to his body, whenever he is shirtless, or clothed, whatever. I'm a straight girl, who appreciates the fine form of men. What can I possibly say? He's a divine specimen. I hear Gran in the kitchen, working on breakfast. She's slaving away by the stove as I walk in, and she's making crispy bacon for us and scrambled eggs. Lucky us.

"Want a cup of coffee, Gran?" I ask her, while fiddling around with the coffee pot.

"Yes, please. Make Jason one, too. You know how he gets of a morning if he doesn't have some caffeine in him."

"Oh, sure do." Jason gets even more crabbier than he usually is. It's a male thing, probably.

Once I'm done with three hot mugs of coffee, Jason comes stomping down the stairs in his work uniform, which consists of a white tank-top and baggy beige overalls. His fluorescent orange hard-hat is lying on the kitchen table. His hair is still wet and dripping, gluing flat to his skull. He takes a close look at me as he enters.

"God, sis. You look like crap. Didn't you sleep at all?"

I gawk at him open-mouthed, appalled. Then I consider draining his mug of coffee down the sink.

"Wow. Thanks, Big Bro. How very sweet of you."

"Sorry, sorry, that came out harsh." He holds a hand up in the air apologetically. "You just look sleepy."

"Thanks for noticing," I grumble petulantly.

"Don't get shitty with me. Never meant anything mean by it."

_Oh, sure you didn't._ Ignoring him, I turn and plop down into a chair, clasping my burning hot mug between my hands. Jason takes a seat to the left of me, clutching onto his mug as well, and then we hear a vehicle pull up loudly into the front yard. Jason scrambles to his feet and hurries out the front door. I hear manly slapping across the back, and then the front door clatters closed, and Jason's scampering down the hallway with a shoulder around the very last person I was expecting to see this morning. It's Eric. I certainly hadn't prepared myself in advance.

"Morning," he says cheerfully to both Gran and myself. I allow myself to peek up at him for a split second with a slight smile on my face, but I am not all that sure how to react around him. I bring my mug up to my lips and keep quiet.

"Jeeze, you look sleepy too. Didn't anyone else around here besides me get a good night's sleep?" Jason says loudly. "I slept like a baby, I swear. Soon as I hit the pillow, I was out like an infant."

_Goodness gracious, Jason, what are you trying to say here?_

"Sis, where are your good manners this morning? Aren't you gonna make Eric a coffee, or what?" Jason goes on, shooting me a pointed look.

Suppressing a sigh, I pull myself out of the chair and get to work in filling Eric a mug of coffee as well. I hear another chair scrape out from underneath the kitchen table, then someone sinking into it heavily, and guess we've got ourselves another person here for the morning to eat breakfast with, in Eric.

"So, how did things go? What's happening?" I hear Jason say, in a reasonably quiet voice that tells me he doesn't want neither Gran nor myself overhearing.

"Well, like I said a few days ago, it is definitely finished," Eric says, in a very low voice. I really have to strain my ears to listen. "We are just trying to work out what happens, as far as who is moving out goes. I feel like the least I can do, since I was the one ending it, is at least pay for another few months of rent to help her out a bit. I'm thinking about getting a small place for myself. I don't mind if she wants to keep the house."

"Awesome. Now you can have your very own bachelor pad."

"Nah, I don't think so. After her, I don't really feel all that much for jumping into anything at the moment. I'm just gonna take it easy for a little while, I think. I'm just gonna spend some time being single, and we'll see where it goes from there..." Realizing I'm being way too obvious since I'm spending a suspiciously long time with my back facing them, I turn with Eric's mug of coffee. I keep my eyes strategically on the steam wafting around the mug as I bend over the table to place it slowly down near his elbow. Fortunately, I manage not a single drop of spillage. I step over his crisscrossed, impossibly long legs to get safely back into my own kitchen chair.

He clears his throat after a bit, and says in my direction jovially, "Thanks for making me a coffee, sis."

I feel my breathing stop, catching harshly in my throat for one single second over his light-hearted remark, and then in order to hide my offense at his words, hastily I bring my mug to my lips, hoping to cover the half of my face to conceal my reaction._ He calls me sis? After what he did to me last night, in touching me? Who does that? Good Lord._

I take a long sip of my coffee and try to fiddle with the handle of the mug as a way to do something with my hands. I force myself not to glance at him, and I win, for a while there. When Gran sets down a plate full of crispy bacon and scrambled eggs in front of the three of us, telling us all happily to "dig in", it really is an effort to bring myself to eat. Whenever I let my eyes dart up into where he was sitting, I catch him staring at me, each and every time, as though he was assessing me and trying to work me out. Whenever I force myself into forking some food into my mouth, I was conscious that his eyes were still on me. I manage to eat my breakfast, although not much. Only barely a quarter of the plate.

"So, sis," Jason is saying, things I could hardly seem to hear, "What you doing for your birthday? You and Tara aren't going to be skinny-dipping with your friends again, are you?"

I try to answer, but there is a dry lump in my throat. I clear it away forcefully. "Not sure yet, Jason. We haven't made any plans yet."

"Oh, it's your birthday?" Eric asks, suddenly intent and interested.

"Yeah. I'm eighteen, finally. Yay for me." I can't even hide the sarcasm marring my voice. Next, it comes out of my mouth before I'm able to stop it: "Maybe I'll lose my virginity hopefully. Find some attractive guy my age, and finally do the deed, and not feel so stupid."

_And I've obviously picked the wrong moment to have a foot-in-mouth moment..._

Eric, who is halfway through having a huge sip of his coffee during the time I said it, makes an extremely loud choking noise and coughs and splutters. "Shit," he wheezes, through coughs, "That mouthful went down the wrong way." Jason pounds him on the back, being the ever-helpful bud he is. Once he settles down from his fit, he hastily wipes the saliva off his chin on the back of his hand.

Jason gives me a mean look, one that says, _you've really done it, dork,_ then rises to his feet and clears the plates for Gran. I hop to my feet as well, and push in my chair loudly, eager to flee.

"Well, I'm off everybody." I give Gran a quick peck on the cheek, and grab my school bag. Jason- in a way to provoke me, I think- tilts his head down and says grossly, "Lay one on me, sis." So I do. I plant a swift kiss on his cheek, trying not to reel in revulsion at having to kiss my disgusting Big Bro. Purposefully and with success, I ignore Eric and stride past him into the hallway, just as he is pushing himself up onto his feet.

Just as I'm flouncing halfway to the doorway, I hear him call: "Stackhouse."

I turn back to look at him past my shoulder in confusion. "What, Northman?"

"Lay one on me," he says, imitating my brother.

Sighing and keeping my eyes anywhere but on him, I storm back and lean up on tiptoes to press my lips into his cheek gently. Then I flop back down onto my feet, and he scoffs and says quietly, "I hardly felt you."

"So?" I mutter sulkily.

"Do it again so I can actually feel it this time. That was a pretty poor excuse of a kiss, Stackhouse, and you know it." I lean up on my tiptoes again, and this time, his hand goes around the nape of my neck tightly, and he guides and presses my lips into the side of his cheek firmly and rougher. And it leaves me majorly confused. _What's his game?_ I open my eyes, his face is very close, since I'm leaning forward towards him, his lips are so close and parted, all it would take is just merely tilting my lips a fraction, and we would be kissing. His hand loosens around my neck, comes up over my chin, and for a breathless moment I think he is actually going to kiss me, in the house, in the hallway, where Jason could walk out and catch us at any moment.

But then I hear Jason's footsteps approaching, and so does he. He releases my chin quickly, and steps backwards.

I feel the color go from my face as Jason shoves past me boisterously to get in front of me. "You ready, Eric?" He pushes his hard-hat onto his head.

Eric doesn't tear his eyes away from me. "Yeah, I'm ready, man."

"See ya, sis," Jason says, looking back at me and smiling.

"Yeah, see ya." I can't even remove my eyes away from his. It's an impossibility. Jason rushes out the front door, but I hardly even notice him. No one else seems to exist, but Eric standing there. "I want you to be that guy," I mutter underneath my breath, because he is simply staring, and I think he wants me to say something, anything.

"Be what guy?"

"You know, the guy I was talking about..." I say, reddening. "The guy that... I give my virginity to."

His face suddenly changes into something rough and unsmiling. He isn't a happy camper one bit, over that. "I already knew I was," he says flatly. "Your belly button is mine. So is everything else. Do you actually think anyone else would be getting it? There's no way in hell, Stackhouse. Especially not after what happened last night." And then he turns, and stalks out towards his truck to where Jason is seated inside. Something about the way he walks tells me he is moody and petulant. _What the hell have I gone and done to make him upset, though?_

* * *

**_AN/ I want to thank you all for your reviews._**

**_To reviewer Becks, sadly I couldn't respond to your review. I thank you for your opinion, and I agree wholeheartedly. But haven't you had a crush when you were younger where you felt that desperate for a person to actually notice you? I'm trying to write this as that- a young girl who is very desperate, with the first crush she has had. She's young, immature, yes. But weren't we all? As for Eric, he is conflicted because he knows it will ruin his friendship with Jason. At the same time, he has been in a relationship for years that hasn't been working out, and he has been feeling guilty because his feelings for Sookie potentially had something to do with that. I apologize if the story is silly, and ridiculous or hard to read. If that is the case, then I will quit writing. I just wanted to capture that big crush you get for someone, and you're really wanting them to see you as equal since they're older (by experience, when I was younger). Really sorry._**


	11. Birthday Plans

**Thank you all for being so lovely and I really appreciate your encouragement and responses. They were very enlightening, and I will continue on with the story (as is only fair, as you all seem to enjoy it) so thank you all very much. You're all very kind and amazing! :) Hoping you all enjoy this one xx**

* * *

_**Chapter 11**_

"You all right?" Tara asks me through the pulsing music at Merlotte's.

"Yep. You?"

"Just peachy. Hope you didn't get into too much trouble after what we did at my house, what with the whole skinny-dipping thing?"

"Oh, it's cool. My brother will get over it eventually." And he already has now. Well, sort of. "Tara, you've done it, right? I mean, you've done the deed?"

"Of course I have," she says proudly. "And you know it, girl. I already told you about it."

"Well, how did it... feel, you know, the first time you did?"

She turns in her seat to read my face. "Why you asking about it?"

"I don't know." I shrug, trying to look innocent. "I'm just curious, I guess."

"Two years ago, I did it for the first time. With my boyfriend, Eggs. You remember him, right?"

"Of course I do." Eggs is in a grade higher than us, and Tara and him dated a few years ago. They only lasted two months, and because Tara had been the one initiating the end of their relationship, they were no longer on speaking terms. "Did it hurt very much?"

"Not too much," she assures me, after a beat. "We both had a bit of drink in us at the time, though. Eggs was sort of rough, but was trying not to be, at the same time. I think it always hurts the first time you do it, though. You never forget your first time." I can feel her scrutinizing me extra carefully and suspiciously. "Sook, have you done it?"

I try not to scowl. "No, I haven't. As I just said, I'm simply curious, is all."

"Have you found someone you're wanting to do it with?" My face must look funny, it must give me away, because she wails loudly in laughter and collapses against my shoulder. "Damn, Sook. You are so transparent! Who is the lucky guy?"

I throw a meaningful look her way telling her I'm not saying nothing. "Tara, drop it," I plead apprehensively.

"No way, Sook. Tell me! Tell me!"

"No way in hell I'm telling you, Tara Thornton. You'll just laugh at me."

"I won't, I swear. Besides, we're supposed to be best friends. Best friends tell each other everything, and they don't laugh at what the other says."

"Well, alright," I give in nervously. It's a battle easily lost. So I tell her who, while trying my very hardest not to look in his direction. Tara looks incredulous, and as if I'm a stranger to her now. "You promised you wouldn't laugh," I warn her primly, when her lips twitch.

She sighs loudly and puts some effort into straightening her expression. "So, you actually want him to screw you?"

The words spill out of my mouth recklessly. "I do, Tara. I want him to so badly. I'm absolutely dying for him to be the person I experience my first time with. Is that crazy?"

"No, it's not crazy." She pats me on the hand gently to reassure me, but it isn't all that convincing.

"Aren't I just pathetic, for pining after a guy who wouldn't ever give me the light of day?" I laugh bitterly at myself. "I'm acting like a lovesick, obsessed girl, aren't I?" I wrap my arms over myself. "I can't even stop thinking about him, and whenever I'm around him, and he is near... I just want to stare at him all day. Isn't that disgusting of me and creepy?"

She grimaces at my confession, her mouth pulled down. Yes, it is definitely creepy and obsessive of me.

"I don't necessarily think it's creepy, Sook," she says sympathetically,. "I think you've just got it bad for the guy. Hell, I was like that with Eggs, too. But soon as we screwed for a good few sessions, I got over it pretty quickly, and the attraction died down a bit."

A few people came standing around behind us, so Tara leaned in, and lowered her voice.

"You just need him to screw your brains out for a bit," she says crudely, "And then you won't feel so hopeless."

"I don't want to just screw him and have it over with," I tell her defensively.

"What you want, then?"

"An actual relationship with him maybe," I admit, staring down at my hands. "But of course, even that is just foolish dreaming. He'll never see me as anything more than just Jason's little sister, I know it. I think that is why he is being so reluctant. I think he likes me, too, but... then there's Jason and how he would take the whole thing."

Tara rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, Jason will kick up a stink about it," she mumbles pointlessly.

"I know he will," I hiss back at her indignantly, miffed at the thought of Jason. "And I guess Eric knows that, too, and it's why he is mainly so resistant. He values his friendship with Jason, and I suppose... if we ever got together, he knows deep down inside that Jason wouldn't like it."

"Well, you never know unless you try, right? Maybe Eric is interested in dating you, as well?"

I eye her sceptically. "How would I even go about asking him if he wanted to date me? What if he wouldn't, and it makes it a whole lot more awkward?"

Tara looks over in the direction of where the boys are at, and I can tell she is sizing Eric up. Then she stands. "Fuck it, I'll put an end to all this silly stress, Sook. If you're not brave enough to do it yourself, then I will."

I can feel myself starting to panic. "No, Tara, don't! I don't think it's a very good idea-"

"Come on. What's the worse that can happen? You might be surprised."

"Tara, please-" I grab her by the hand and try to wrench her back. Unfortunately for me, it just sends her stumbling forward into their direction. "Tara, don't!"

_Oh, shit. No, no, no_. For a girl who doesn't wear high heels very often, she sure is able to walk fast and steadily in them.

She reaches where Eric is faster than I can turn away, tapping him on the shoulder. It effectively gets his attention, and he turns to look at her curiously. He bends down so Tara can whisper something into his ear; I know what that whisper is. She is asking if he would date me, and I very nearly stop breathing. I wish I was somehow invisible, I wish I could somehow sink down the chair and through the hardwood floor like liquid, and never resurface. The dread gnawing away in my gut is so unbearable and intense. I cannot believe Tara is doing this to me. Can it be anymore embarrassing and childish?

He throws a brief look into my direction, appearing equally surprised and sheepish. Obviously he wasn't expecting it; He looks as if someone has whopped him over the head with no warning whatsoever. And then, he bends down and says something in her ear, and Tara looks instantly gratified for some reason; as though she has just only accomplished a fulfilling mission. _Oh my God, Tara Thornton. What have you done?_

She stalks back over to me. I try not to look at her, as she slinks back into the empty chair next to me. I'm almost too horrified to ask what went down between the two.

"Tara, I want to die right now, I swear," I mumble through shocked, rubbery lips.

She just laughs and says, "Told you. If you take matters into your own hands, it might surprise you."

Ten minutes later, I'm still sitting down at the tiny table wishing I was somewhere else and Tara has gone up to the bar to get us each a drink of water with ice. I feel someone slip in Tara's empty chair beside me, before I see them. Someone knocks their shoulder lightly against mine, I turn in my seat, and find its Eric. He is staring at me, and I find myself wanting to disappear all over again.

He leans over and says in my ear, "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sitting here waiting on Tara. She went up to the bar to get us some water." I tilt my head in her direction to find she is watching us from over her shoulder as she stands lined up at the busy bar. I can see her brilliant white smile from miles away. Damn her.

"Give me your phone." I just love how bossy and commanding he sounds, like it is such an urgent request. Not that I love getting ordered around and told what to do; I get that enough from Jason as it is. I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket, and hand it to him. He quickly pushes it underneath the table and I see his thumbs at fast and furious work as they go away with punching at the keys to type something in. Then he quickly dials a number, holds the phone up to his ear, and I feel mysterious vibrating through his leg to mine as the call goes through. He hangs up, and pushes my phone back into my hands secretly from underneath the table. As he gets to his feet, he leans down over me to mutter in my ear loudly over the music, "Now you have my phone number, Stackhouse. Call me sometime so we can do something special on your birthday to celebrate it together."

A quick grin at me from over his shoulder and he's gone. I look down at the number he's just dialled. Instead of simply using his name as the contact, he has saved in there 'Boyfriend' instead.

My pulse races, and I'm soaring.

I guess Tara was right, after all.

Take matters into your own hands, and you might be surprised by the results.

* * *

Next afternoon I spend all in my room, flopped over on my bed, trying to do homework but really not getting anything done at all. I end up agonizing on whether I ought to call him or not. He is clearly expecting me to, or else why would he bother giving his number to me? But then I end up calling it off, hoping not to come across as too eager and desperate. It seems he makes the decision for me, because at seven-thirty I get a call from him.

"Is something up with your phone?"

His voice is teasing, and I recognize it's him the instance he says it. I know that voice by heart, weird as it is. At least now I can quit with the stressing. "No, my phone is working perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because I was expecting a call from you, Stackhouse." He sounds perplexed.

"Sorry, but who the heck is this?" I succeed in sounding sincere, and I throw my free hand in the air. A little fist-pump for my efforts.

"Very funny," he says wryly. "You know who this is. Don't pretend."

"Right. And who is this exactly?"

"Eric." Even just the sound of his name elicits a pleasant tingling feeling from within.

"Huh," I continue playing, "So this is who it is. Sorry, I didn't recognize who it was for a moment there."

"Sure, you didn't."

I laugh. "Honestly, I didn't know. How do I know it's the real Eric, though? What if this is just somebody else pretending to be him?"

"Then ask me a question that I would only know, if you don't believe me. How about the color of a certain something I stole off you as a souvenir?"

Good Lord. Suddenly, I feel red as a beet and flustered. I get visual images that flash in my head mercilessly of that night. The kissing. His panting all over my skin. His... touching. His groaning, and grunting. Phew.

I clear my throat loudly. "All right, all right. I get that it is really you now. What can I do for you?" I ask, trying to sound polite.

"What are you doing the night before your birthday? It's on a Wednesday, right?"

I feel a bit touched that he has even bothered to work out what day of the week I turn eighteen on the calendar.

"You're right. It is."

"I'd like to do something with you, if you're available?"

I feel myself grinning widely into the phone. Thank God it isn't possible for people to hear smiles, because my smiling radar would be screaming all the way to the moon, and back.

"Oh? You would?" I ask, beaming.

"I have a few certain things I need to talk to you about."

"Oh, okay. That sounds worrying."

"And maybe also a few certain things I would like to do to you."

"Ah. And that sounds oddly.. welcoming." Does he mean sex- or what?

"Where are you?"

"Uh, I'm in my bedroom." Obviously. Weird question, because where else would I possibly be right now? "Where are you?"

"Outside your window," he says ominously without skipping a beat.

My breath hitches in my throat. And then I get the joke, a bit belatedly. "Oh, you're kidding. Ha-ha. Funny."

"Is there anything in particular that you would like to do for your birthday?"

_Yes, you could always make love to me._ "Uhm, not really. No plans, as yet."

"Come on. There has got to be at least something you want to do?"

I throw off the first scandalous thing that comes inside my head. "Get a tattoo."

"Seriously, a tattoo? Of all the things you want to do, that's it?" He laughs. He sounds incredulous. Well, jolly good.

"Maybe. I'm not so much of the darling, precious, good girl everyone assumes I am."

"Right. Is that so?" He sounds slightly disbelieving.

"Yep. And I do want to get that tattoo. Seriously."

A pause. "Then I'll get one with you?"

Now it is my turn to be full of disbelief. "What? Are you for real?"

"Yeah, I am." He certainly sounds it, too. "We'll get matching ones."

I crack up laughing at that. "So if I dared to get a girly butterfly tattoo, you'd get one too? Even if it was ultra-feminine and men started hitting on you because they thought you were gay?"

"Well, maybe not if it was a butterfly tattoo. You don't really want a butterfly tattoo, do you?"

"What's wrong with butterfly tattoos?" I ask, faux-offended.

"Nothing," he answers quickly. "But I'll have to draw the line there. Anything else, and I'll get it with you. Anything but the butterfly."

"A love-heart then?" I tease, catching him out.

He groans in disgust. "Please not a love-heart, Stackhouse. That's even worse than a fucking butterfly."

"What then?"

"I don't know." He hesitates, thinking deeply. "But you think something up that isn't too girly, and I'll do it with you. It's a done-deal, Stackhouse."

"Seriously?" I ask again dubiously. I can't believe my ears.

"Yes. Seriously. No flowers either, please."

"All right, then. The deal is on. Neither of us can go back on it, all right?"

"Bring it on, Stackhouse. I'm ready for the pain."

It almost feels good to have something else to stress about, rather than whether I'm in too deep. Now I have to stress about getting a matching tattoo with Eric Northman, and the pain it will present my skin._ Fudge. _I didn't think he would take it so literally, but what the hell?


	12. First Date Part One

**Thank you all for being so lovely and I really appreciate your encouragement and responses. **

**P.s: Sorry for teasing you guys, too, by prolonging Sookie's first time. It is necessary, though. Next chapter will be part 2 of their date, plus their tattoo. (And maybe some sex.) If you have any suggestions on where their first time should be experienced together, feel free to let me know. Or any suggestions in general would be much appreciated. Thank you all millions for the reviews, and alerts. It makes me a happy-chappie. Thanks!**

* * *

_**Chapter 12**_

Eric and I agree to meet on Tuesday in the morning. Instead of heading off to school, I ditch, pretending to him that I had the day off school anyway and that it was a holiday. It's a lie, and yes, I'm that eager to spend the whole day with him by ourselves. We're still undecided about the tattoo design we want to go for. We decide we'll just go out on a whim and look at the tattoo parlour to find one that interests the pair of us equally. It's a permanent thing you wear for life, after all. We spend the start of the day walking around town, and although an hour has already passed since we met up, I'm still uneasy and anxious around him.

I feel shy of him and not sure what to talk about. He's strolling next to me, his hands shoved deeply into his trouser pockets. I steal a quick glance at his face. He's looking directly at me, with a thoughtful look.

"What?" I ask, feeling a bit self-conscious. I clasp my hands behind my back and squeeze them tightly to give myself courage.

"Nothing." He quickly looks away ahead of us. He seems uncomfortable for some reason. I guess his playful mood on the phone that night has dissipated. Maybe he is just feeling as nervous as I am? All I'm self-consciously aware of, is that this feels awkward. Maybe this was a mistake. I find myself studying his profile, admiring his looks and his hair, when he glances down at me again. "Are you nervous about the tattoo?"

"Kind of," I admit, pleased we have something to talk about.

He grins at this. "Surely it won't be too painful, otherwise why else would people get them? We'll be just fine."

"Oh, well. I certainly hope so. I hope I won't faint. I think that is mostly what I'm worried about, and not how much it'll potentially hurt." Since I'm nervous around him, it makes me feel embarrassingly chatty.

"I'll go first, then." Someone crosses in my line of walking down the street, and I have to sort of lean into him to get out of their way. He touches me on the back quickly, pulling me out of the way, then goes back to shoving his hands into his pockets again.

I feel a bit irked with him being careful not to touch me. Then again, it isn't exactly as if this is a date, is it? Hell, I don't even know what this is. I can't exactly say I've been on a date before. Is this a date? My mind is racing.

"So, you don't have any brothers or sisters?" I ask, hoping for some conversation.

He shakes his head. "I don't. It is just me and my old man, pretty much. You know what happened with my mother; I told you about that, I think."

"You did." I nod, and search frantically for something else to say. "Did you always want to work as part of the road crew?"

He sends me a wry look at that question. "You would have to have pretty low ambition if working in the road crew was a goal in life, Stackhouse."

I try not to laugh out of nerves. "Then what do you want to do? Why are you working with the road crew?"

He gets that uncomfortable look on his face again. "I've always wanted to work in law," he admits to me quietly. "But sometimes, you have to push aside your dreams for the sake of others."

"For the sake of who specifically?" I ask, burning with interest.

"Well, getting a job as part of the road crew was the very first one I attained after finishing high school. I was with Pam; She wanted us to move in together, so I thought I better have a job so I can pay my way with rent." He sighs heavily. "Being part of the road crew isn't the most demanding job, I admit. But maybe I took the easy route? It was the easiest and quickest way to get a decent enough amount of money." He is still not looking directly at me. He looks down at the pavement we are walking on, then ahead of us. "Sometimes you have to push aside what you want and what you desire, for another person. The only way I could afford to split the rent with her was if I got a job, and they were looking for workers at the time. Plus, your brother was already working for them. It was a pretty sweet deal; Having a social life working with pals, and still getting paid hourly on the job for fixing roads." He shrugs and finally looks down at me, with a slight smile on his lips. "So, I thought, why the fuck not?" I can tell it discomforts him talking about it, so I change the subject.

"What side of law did you want to get into?"

He relaxes, seemingly happy with this question. "I wanted to be a police officer. Then maybe get promoted to sheriff."

"Then why haven't you followed through on that?"

"Like I said, sometimes you have to push aside your own ambitions to get by. Plus, there was some personal doubts. The usual, really. Am I really smart enough, when I didn't complete my secondary education at a college? Would I be able to handle the demands? That kind of stuff."

"But you're smart, even if you haven't gone to college," I tell him reassuringly. "I mean, you always help me out with my homework. Math, especially." I give him a thankful smile. "You're good with numbers and equations."

"I'm not a very good teacher though, am I?" He laughs softly. "I swear, whenever I helped you out, you looked completely blank by what I was saying. It was as if I'm talking to you in another language."

I can feel myself blushing. "I have my own personal reasons for that." _I was maybe perving on you, and not really bothering to listen._ "It doesn't reflect on your teachings one bit."

He laughs again. "I've always wondered what was going through your head, though..."

Oh, gee-whiz. I give him a pleading look. "Please don't make me have to say it out-loud. It will turn you off helping me out ever again."

"What?" he asks, smiling. He's sincerely curious; It is what I'm fearing.

My face feels all hot. I know there isn't any chance in hell in diverting the question. That's what makes it worse. "Maybe I was too busy staring at you for anything to ever really register," I confess, shy as a virgin revealing her status to the man she desires.

His eyebrows raise, incredulous. "Staring at me? Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I mutter, sarcasm marring my voice.

"No, it isn't. Did I have something on my face or something? A smear of food or something grotesque that claimed all your attention?"

I laugh nervously. "No, definitely not."

"Why then?" He seriously doesn't know. I can tell by his bewildered tone of voice.

"Come on, it's really obvious. The answer to that is super obvious."

"It really isn't to me."

I avoid his eyes, as to ignore how his reaction will be. "Maybe it was because I thought you were really cute. I've always thought that. You know that already, though. I'm so pathetically obvious."

"You were staring because you think I'm cute?" He sounds disbelieving. I can feel him staring at me now. "Well, damn. I thought you were just staring because you thought I was weird or something?"

"Of course not."

"I think your cute, too." _Only not in the way I do_. "I've always thought that about you. But then it felt sort of perverted to think that about a younger person."

Right. Here we go. Age is an issue for him. "I'm not _that_ young," I remind him with irritation. "And tomorrow I'm eighteen," I add quickly.

"Yes, you are. _Tomorrow_."

"What happens tomorrow?" I ask, purposefully making my tone brighter.

"I don't know. Birthday things, I'm guessing."

That isn't quite what I'm meaning. "I mean, between us?"

I hear him take in a deep breath. "What do _you_ want to happen between us?"

"I don't know. What do you want to happen?"

"Your friend Tara at the bar..." He pauses nervously to clear his throat. I peer up at him. He can't even bring himself to look at me. "She asked me something that honestly surprised me. I didn't know that you would."

I am confused. I feel my brows lift up- part of my confused face. "That I would?"

He clears his throat again gently. "Well, she said that you wanted me to be your boyfriend."

"Oh. That's what she said, did she?" I try to make my voice sound surprised, and succeed.

He pauses from his walking to look down at me. It is a strangely intense look; his eyes burning into mine searchingly. "Was she just saying that?"

"It depends." I force myself not to look away.

"On what?"

"On what your answer would be." I'm holding my breath, waiting for the blow to come. The blow that ends it all. No, you're too young. I can't see you that way.

He breaks into a slow grin. "I thought I already answered that?"

"You did?"

"I did," he says simply, not saying anymore.

_God, he is so frustrating. Just say it already, but let me down easy._ "I believe I missed it."

He brings his eyes away from me and stops smiling. He squints forward at the sun. "I_ do_ want to be with you. I really, _really_ do. But it is just... complicated."

"Right." My voice is just above a dejected whisper. "Of course it is."

He shakes his head. "Probably not in the way you're thinking. Pam and I broke up, but I should have already done it months ago. We're friends now, but we've always basically been. It's always been that way for us. We're more so friends, than anything else." He grimaces ahead of us. "I'll always care for her, and she'll always care for me. That is how it'll always be."

"Then what's the problem?" I ask, completely missing it. What is he trying to get at?

"You know your brother. Probably even more than I do. You know how he would take it, and most likely, he wouldn't take it in the best of ways."

"I do," I mumble flatly. "But I think he'll get over it in time. He might get angry at first, but then eventually... he'll just have to accept it. He'll just have to adjust."

"That's the problem, though. I've known Jason for eight years. He's pretty much the closest friend I've got. He knows when something is up, when something is different."

I think this over for a moment, assessing him. His forehead is crumpled with worry. "I know Jason can be sort of protective of me. Annoyingly so."

"And with good reason, though." He finally looks at me, and gives me a small smile that seems forced. "If I had a little sister, I'm sure I'd be exactly the same way with her as Jason is with you. I wouldn't want anyone hurting her. Least of all, one of my friends hurting her and dating her."

"You wouldn't hurt me! I know you wouldn't!"

"I can't say whether I won't end up hurting you. All I know is that it would never be intentional of me. I wouldn't ever want to hurt you."

"You're just ultimately worried about what Jason would think, and how he would feel. I get that. I can understand it. You're a good friend to him."

"Am I?" he asks quietly, looking extremely doubtful. "A good friend wouldn't think of his little sister in the way I constantly do about you."

"I think you're stressing way too much on it. To hell, with what Jason will think. The only thing that should matter is what the pair of us want, not him."

It is the most complicated conversation I've ever had with a person, yet at the same time, it is also the most gratifying.

I grab one of his hands closest to me to make a more direct point on it and interlace my fingers through his. I look over at him, and I can see he is debating on whether or not to stop holding my hand out in public, but then I see he decides against it. Instead, he smiles in a more carefree way and gives my hand a tight squeeze in response.

"So, we're actually doing this, Stackhouse?" he asks, looking down at me jubilantly.

"I guess we are," I laugh, brimming over with excitement. He squeezes my hand again, and I echo it, sending the hand squeeze back for all it's worth, and then we continue strolling down the road together, hand in hand, and I feel elated with happiness and a certain fulfilment. Now he isn't just only my crush anymore. We are more, and it feels wonderful. It is the best feeling in the world.

"Want to get something to eat so you don't faint during the tattoo business?" he suggests very casually- and_ smartly_. And so, we do.

* * *

The quickest restaurant we find seems rather expensive and intimate for two people who are dressed casually and just want some quick lunch to fill their stomachs. It is dimly lit with lots of flickering candles around the place- despite it still being noon- and a piano piece plays around the room. Seems like the perfect place to bring your secret mistress, a place where it is out-of-the-way where no one could ever possibly find you, and catch you out.

Eric asks the host for a table, and as we follow the host - still hand in hand, and me loving it- through the front room and through a narrow passage way, the restaurant is housed in what looks like an old brick building. There isn't many people around, and the walls are covered in weird sketches. There is even a deer with antlers hanging on the wall, and what looks like a huge trout in the other. Once the host directs us to a table, we order a simple basket of fries and when Eric orders two Budweiser's to go along with it, I see the host give me a careful look-over. For a moment there, I start to panic and assume she is about to ask me for my I.D- which I do not have, of course- but then much to my relief, she gives up.

After the lady walks away, I lean over in the chair and say playfully, "You're definitely on your way to corrupting a minor, Northman. What would my Grandmother think of this?"

"It doesn't truly pass as a good lunch without a beer, Stackhouse."

"I think you're just trying to get me drunk," I tease.

He smiles to himself mischievously and pauses in thought, before saying, "Maybe I am trying to."

"Why?" The lady comes back with our uncapped beers and sets them on the table. "Do you want to turn me into an alcoholic at a young age or something?"

Something flits across his face at that, and instantly I regret saying it. I was only teasing, though. Jesus, what have I said?

I look at him, worrying, as he takes a quick sip of his beer. Clearly I've gone and said something wrong, but he has joked about it once before, didn't he?

"Everything alright over there?" I ask, concerned. I slide my hand off the table and place it on his thigh closest to me. He looks down at my hand, and I wonder if I should probably move it away, only he doesn't seem to mind it being there. I decide I'll just wait and see if he tells me to move it. He doesn't though.

"Everything is just fine, Stackhouse." But he looks unhappy. I've definitely touched a raw nerve. "I don't think you'd want to be an alcoholic," he mutters after a moment bitterly. "I think it's the worst thing in the world. Especially if you've seen someone suffer from it and all the hell they go through." Oh, that's right. His dad. Sadness surges through me.

"Is it really that bad?"

He smiles but it seems forced, yet again. "Bad is definitely an understatement when it comes to my old man."

"Has anyone ever tried giving him treatment?"

"Yeah, but it isn't that easy, Stackhouse. It's an addiction." I can't stand looking at his face, so I look away across the room. "When I was still in high school and after my mother left, it was the worse time. I remember once I got pissed-off and drained all his bottles of alcohol out in the sink, and my old man got so angry he didn't talk to me for three whole days."

"It must have been hard to go through all that, when you were still at school. It must have made things incredibly difficult."

"Life is always difficult for anyone regardless."

A waiter comes in with our bowl of fries, but I hardly feel like eating after this conversation. Eric doesn't move to start eating either so I'm presuming he is in the same boat.

"We don't have to get tattoos if you don't want to," I tell him, hoping to brighten his mood a bit. "I was kind of... joking."

Just like that, it seems to effectively get him out of his wretched mood. He smiles, and laughter gets stuck in his throat.

"Chicken-shit," he mutters light-heartedly underneath his breath, snatching up a fry.

I laugh out loud. "I am so not!"

"Yeah, you are." He squirts a large amount of ketchup over the fries. "You are so a chicken-shit. You're more of a chicken-shit than me, Stackhouse. Already you're chickening out on getting a tattoo." He plucks up another fry and I find myself watching with interest as he chomps down on the end of it with his teeth. Watching him eat is surprisingly very entertaining. I think he senses my staring, because he grins while chewing, and says through a mouthful, "Are you gonna eat or what?"

"You're eating for the both of us. You eat like a starved dog."

His mouth pops open at that, in feigned offense. I try not to laugh as he shifts in his seat and picks up another fry. "Open your mouth," he says in a bossy voice, and I do. Accidently- I think- he misses my mouth and ends up smearing ketchup on the side of it instead. I groan in disgust and, without warning, he leans in and kisses it off the corner of my mouth. The kiss is felt all the way down to my tingling toes. Then he leans back in the chair and licks his lips, looking absurdly pleased with himself; his eyes bright and cheerful.

"Dumbass," I grumble petulantly, through a shy giggle, wiping my lips on the back of my hand. He just laughs at that, and tries to feed me again. Luckily, this time, it goes right in my mouth.

He's grinning like a fool, but then that smile is quickly wiped off his face as he sees something behind my shoulder. "Shit," he whispers, sounding panicked, and so suddenly, he places a careful amount of distance between us. I turn and look myself and I see the hostess bringing in a couple. The man is tall and beefy, with curly brown hair.

Alcide. Oh, great.

Panic surges through me. Oh, no, no. He can't see us here. Not like this.

My first instinct is to duck underneath the table and pray all goes well, but already it is far too late.

Eric places his hand on my knee from underneath the table and gives me a meaningful squeeze. "Relax," he says quietly. "Just act normal." It makes me laugh, which in turn relaxes me.

Eric looks admirably calm and composed when Alcide spots us, and he rushes over with his pretty girlfriend- Debbie, I believe I've heard her name is- in tow. He holds up his hand for Alcide to clasp it in one of those manly traditions, and Alcide laughs uncomfortably in shock at the sight of the two of us eating out together. Eric asks how he is in a completely natural manner, and he doesn't even bother explaining what we're doing out together, which I'm sort of expecting him to do.

"Debbie and I thought we would come here for lunch," Alcide says, feeling it necessary of himself to explain.

"Yeah, yeah," Eric says, nodding in understanding. "This is a pretty cosy place."

Alcide's gaze flickers between the two of us, and then asks the question I've silently been dreading he would: "What are you two doing out here together?"

"Eating lunch," Eric says, relaxed. I feel his hand clamping down on my thigh. I slip my hand subtly underneath the table and cling onto his leg, sending the squeezes back in a slightly hysterical fashion to calm myself. Since I'm thinking far too much with my head and not my hand, it hardly registers what my hand is doing to him from underneath the table and just where... where it is heading. Before I know it, I'm accidentally squashing him in the groin, and Eric jolts forward and grunts in a startled way, sending the beers knocking over on the table and the frothy beer spilling out all over the place. All in front of Alcide's watchful eyes. Oh, shit. Wonderful.

_**Hope you enjoyed this one haha? Please let me know x Thanks for reading!**_


	13. Part Two

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

**Consuming**

"Oh, my God," I gasp, horrified, reaching over the table for some napkins to start blotting up the beer on the table. "I'm so sorry. Clumsy me."

I glance over at Eric again, who stands and helps me with mopping up some of the spilled beer; He still looks so cool and collected, as though I wasn't just groping him incidentally underneath the table seconds ago. Then I look up and see Alcide and his girlfriend exchanging a glance, and Alcide looks awfully uncomfortable. He sends a quick look my way that feels weighed down with meaning, like he knows what we're really doing here, that we're more now- or am I just imagining it?

Debbie makes an excuse that she's feeling really hungry as a way to subtly tell Alcide to move his butt so they can find a seat and order, and have some privacy together. She tugs him on the arm, and he allows himself to slowly be led away, saying to us, "See you two, probably tonight. Poker night at your house with Jason, Sookie. Remember, it's a Tuesday?"

"Oh, right," I mutter, flushed, still preoccupied with my frantic mopping of the table, "Of course. See you then."

"Yeah, definitely," Eric says. "See you tonight." Alcide nods politely at us, and then he goes off with Debbie, who sends a quick smile our way.

The instance they leave, I feel like I want to die. I want something bad to mysteriously happen to me, something unpleasant. I know Alcide will be spilling his guts to Jason about seeing us out here in the restaurant together tonight. Why, oh _why_ does _tonight_ have to be poker night?

"We have to leave," I insist to Eric desperately. "Right now. _Please_. I feel like I'm going crazy with guilt with them two seeing us here."

He's looking mildly amused at me, and as though he wants to crack up laughing, but says, "Sure. Whatever you want."

He throws his damp napkin on the table and by the time we reach the hostess to pay for our beers and basket of fries, I'm so nerve-wracked and shaken, even though Alcide and girlfriend are clearly out of sight. I'm probably only being paranoid.

Once we get back outside and safely away, Eric lets loose and cracks up laughing loudly. "Jesus, Stackhouse. Way to be cool. You were molesting me up there."

"God, I'm so sorry," I whisper vehemently, sincerely apologetic. "I don't know what happened."

We walk for a bit, and I'm totally stricken. Eric takes my hand again and tells me to relax. It is definitely easier to, now that we're free of Alcide. I can't help stressing, though. Jason is definitely going to find out tonight, I know he will. Jason is going to give me strife about it, I can just tell.

I can feel Eric looking at me as we walk along in silence. He squeezes my hand. "Not much we can do about it, just try to put it out of your mind."

I wish I could, but I can't. I have this terrible feeling of doom impending for me. "He'll tell Jason he saw us. I know it."

"So what if he does? We'll just tell it like it is, don't deny it. We went out for lunch together. What's the big deal, Stackhouse? People go out for lunch together all the time, and it doesn't mean anything."

"But what makes matters a million times worse is that if Alcide tells him he saw us, Jason will know I'm not at school."

Eric is puzzled by this. My guilt increases. "I thought you said that today was a school holiday or something?"

I stare down at my shoes. "I might have lied," I admit slowly.

There is an awfully long moment of silence on his end. Then he mutters, "Jesus Christ, Stackhouse." He doesn't sound very pleased, but I can't tell how much so he really isn't. "You're supposed to be at school right now?"

"I am. I just... I wanted to spend the entire day with you."

"Well, we're here now. Not much we can do about it, I suppose." He still sounds very unhappy that I purposefully missed a day of school for him. He unwillingly lets it slide, though. "You still want to get that tattoo?"

"Honestly? Not really." I feel too ill with guilt. I'm definitely not in the mood for it. "And it isn't because I'm chickening out on it," I add quickly, because I know that is what he thinks. "I'm too jumpy now to even sit still."

We reach the end of the side-walk, and just as we're crossing the road, I steal a quick peek at him. He is staring down at his shoes as he walks, and looks undecided. It's almost as if he wants to ask something, but he isn't sure whether it is right to or not.

Finally, "Want to come check out the new apartment I'm renting?"

This is something big in him asking it, and my heart's in my throat, this is exactly what I want. I want, most of all, for us to be alone inside a house, concealed by the outside public world, because it presents us the opportunity to do other things that I've always wanted to do with him.

"Oh, sure. Where is it?"

"It's actually a few blocks away from here." He is still peering down at his shoes, in an apprehensive way that tells me he fears he is asking too much. "It's pretty small, but I don't need much space. It's kind of messy at the moment. I haven't gotten the chance to really unpack my things. Everything is kind of all over the place at the moment."

"That's fine." I smile to myself softly. "I'd love to check it out."

He seems genuinely surprised by my quick agreement, so we change direction and head up another street. We walk for around roughly five minutes and then we come to an old rusting gate. He swings it open to allow me to pass, and then he closes it right back up, and rushes up the stairs while fishing for the keys to open the front door in the pocket of his jeans. He unlocks the front door, and turns slowly to face me, a bit embarrassed.

"It'll probably put Jason's bedroom to shame," he says quietly, trying to make a joke out of it.

I laugh uneasily, thinking it is very doubtful that his apartment could ever be in such a terrible state as Jason's room. As I head inside though and cautiously look around, I realize it could actually give Jason's room a run for its money in the messy stakes. He certainly wasn't over exaggerating about not having a chance to unpack his things yet; There are boxes everywhere on the floor. Everything is rather bare, and there is only a sleeper-sofa, which I'm assuming he uses as his bed. It looks rather lonely and minimalistic presently.

I hear the front door close and Eric comes in from behind me slowly. I turn to throw a look over at him. He seems very nervous, gauging my reaction carefully for any hindsight into what I'm thinking on his new place.

"You weren't kidding about not having unpacked yet," I say.

He smiles softly at that and brings his eyes down to the floor. "Yeah, I know. I haven't really had the time to. Plus, I don't exactly have much; Pam brought most of the things for our other place. I'm not good with decorating." He clears his throat gently, and says, "You want another beer? I actually have some in the fridge in the kitchen?"

I smile tentatively. "Yeah, I think it's best if I don't. We don't want me making you spill anything else." I turn back towards his sofa, and sit down on it, stretching out my legs in front of me. He seems to hesitate for a moment, before he comes forward and sits down beside me. He stares down at his hands as he fiddles with the house key with his fingers. I want something to happen, but I don't know how to make it begin. I'm absolutely clueless. "So you're living alone now?" I ask, trying to make him talk.

He nods slowly, still looking at his hands, turning the key over and over. "I am."

"I'd feel sort of lonely. I like having my Grandmother around. I just like hearing her go about her day and fussing around the house. I think I'd go crazy being in a place this silent, all by myself."

"You get used to it after a while. Besides, I'm not alone now, am I?" He sends a quick look up at my face, smiling at me in a way that sends me in a frenzy.

"That's true." I smile back at him invitingly. "You're not alone right now. You're alone, with _me_. What happens when two people are alone like this?"

"I don't know, Stackhouse. What happens now?"

"I know what I would like to happen. It's all just a matter of whether you would like for it to happen now, too."

There is a comfortable moment where we just look at each other, and I can see he finally gets it. He knows what I want. He reaches over and touches my cheek, adjusting his position on the sofa slightly to look at me more carefully. "Do you want me to make love to you, right here and now?"

I can feel myself blushing. "I think I do. Do_ you_ want that?"

In a way that gives me a definite answer, he grins at me broadly and pushes me backwards gently on the sofa. I stretch out and lean on my back, and then he is hovering over me, looking down at me, our limbs tangled and the entire weight of his body pressing down on me wonderfully. I reach up with my hands and stroke his face with my fingertips.

"This won't make things harder, though?" he whispers softly, uncertainly, as I run my hands down over his shirt slowly. I push my hands up underneath it, feeling around hot skin and various tightly tackled muscles. He inhales deeply. "Will you be able to look at me the same way as you normally do, when we are around your brother? Will we be able to keep up pretense?"

I take in a deep breath. "I'm sure we will be able to just fine."

He takes in an unsteady deep draw of breath himself, and then he comes down to me, placing his face inches from mine, and we kiss, and it deepens, as he brings his arms carefully around my back, pulling me up tightly off the sofa, and into him. I'm overcome with happiness and desire. _Finally. Finally._

* * *

**_Sorry for teasing you guys haha. I know, I'm a tease, aren't I? I've never written a lemon before so I am nervous as all hell for what's approaching next chapter. Thanks so much for being such lovely people. You really encourage me! Very sweet of you all! _**


	14. Her First

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

**Consuming**

* * *

Leaning over me on his knees and keeping his excited eyes on mine, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and tears the fabric off his shoulders eagerly. He throws it carelessly behind us, and I'm dazed by the sight. Working in the road crew certainly does pay-off with the physique, indeed. A shiver of pleasure races through me at the sight of him.

"Wow," I mutter idiotically, losing myself in the sight. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this." I run both hands over his shoulders and across his chest, massaging, exploring muscles.

I help him out and unbutton his jeans, then slide the zipper down. I push my hand inside. His breathing gets even deeper, and I marvel that I have that effect on him. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.

"Of course I am. Are you having doubts?"

He smiles at me, and doesn't answer. Instead, he lifts up my shirt and tells me to hold up my arms so that he can get it off me. He flings my shirt onto the floor, then works at unclasping my bra, which falls off me so suddenly that I haven't got enough time to prepare myself in advance.

I feel exposed and embarrassed without a shirt or bra on, especially in this particular position, and my hands go automatically to cover my breasts. I haven't let anyone see me naked before.

"No," he says desperately, pulling my hands away and placing them on the top of his shoulders. "I want to see you." He brings his hands around and runs his fingertips lightly around my breasts, and astonishingly, he seems to like them. He seems to like them a lot. He runs his thumbs over the peak of my nipples, and my back arches without warning. "You're beautiful. You shouldn't be ashamed of your body." Without warning, he dips his head and slides down on the sofa to lick my right nipple, like a dog. I'm almost a wriggling, writhing mess. He pauses, and looks up at me, endearingly startled and appreciative. "I'm breaking the number one rule to the code, and am making love to Jason Stackhouse's little sister. Who would have thought?"

"Ah, which rule to the code of brotherhood?" I sass him. "The one where you shouldn't mess around with your good friend's sister?"

"Yes. Exactly that one." He is pulling my underwear down my legs and over my ankles. "I'll keep these later. Add them to my collection."

I laugh. "If you keep stealing my underwear, what happens when I don't have any left?"

"Buy new ones, then." He pulls off his jeans and its the most daunting thing even. When he rips open a condom packet with his teeth, it really hits me. We are actually doing this. We are actually having sex. My virginity will be his, he will always be known as my first. Best early birthday present ever. I lay back on the sofa, stretched out like a shaking, nerve-wracked animal. He licks his lips, moistening them, and crawls over me carefully. My breath hitches in my throat. My heart is thumping in my ears. He is beautiful, and scary, and dangerous. Wow, we're really doing this.

"Don't tell anyone this," he whispers softly, moving over me on his knees, as he slides carefully inside me, "but I... I kind of love you." The latex of the condom allows for a more quicker, slippery, painless entrance. But I feel all tight, invaded.

My heart surges with joy, and its a big enough distraction from being afraid of what is really going on. I am beaming up at him, weightless, as I wrap my arms around his neck tightly. "Don't tell anyone either, but... I'm sort of in love with you, too."

"Ready?" he asks shakily, holding himself over me with his arms against my shoulders. His lips are pressed tight, his eyes squinted with intense concentration. He licks his lips again, as though his mouth feels dry, and he swallows loudly.

"Readier than I'll ever be. But gently," I warn. I have my eyes closed, tense and ready.

"Gently," he says over me, "Gently, of course." Hands rest carefully in my hair, springs on the sleeper-sofa squeak. Tongue and lips on my neck, on my shoulder blades. My legs spread, my ankles digging into the lower part of his back. Tendons and muscles moving over me, to a push-pull rhythm, the steady push of his cock, in-and-out, in-and-out. Hard breathing into my skin, my name a whispered uneven chant falling from his lips. Yes, oh, yes. This is what I've always wanted with him. Yes. Warm skin on skin, his breathing in my ear, his lips on my forehead. Something intense building, moving up around the corner.

"Oh-" I gasp, stunned. How strange sex is. How strange human beings are, to do this.

"Jesus, Sookie," he mutters, making a little grunt when he comes himself when it's all over, and he pulls out, disposes of the condom quickly, and flops himself onto his side facing me. He runs his hand down my side, like a caress. He's panting. We lie there quietly for a little while, until our breathing evens out. "Hey," he whispers after a long while, like we're two strangers that have only just fallen naked onto his sleeper-sofa together.

I wipe my hair off my face quickly; It tends to stick to my sweaty, flushed skin. "Hey," I whisper back weakly.

"How are you?"

"I'm wonderful. How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, too. How are _you_?" I burst out laughing. Eric smiles widely at me, exuding delight. "Did you think it hurt?"

"Yes. Well, a little." I have to really think about it, I'm so dazed. "Kind of, at first."

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks apprehensively.

"Hell, yes. I did."

"Good." He sits up slowly and wraps himself around me, for warmth. He bends down over me and kisses my shoulder, and my heart is racing. "I did too."

I roll over on my back and Eric props his head on his hand and looks down at me. It's so strange to be talking like this, on his sofa, the pair of us basking in the relaxing after-effects of sex. "When was _your_ first time?"

"_My_ first time doing this?" He smiles to himself, as though he is reliving that very moment he lost his own virginity. "It was in seventh grade. It was with a girl in high school that was a year older than me, and her name was Nora. Kids used to call her 'Big Nora'."

I blink at him. "Why 'Big Nora'?"

"Because she had really big breasts." He laughs.

"How big are we talking here? Bigger than mine?" I'm a modest C-Cup, but this girl must have had pretty big knockers to be known as Big Nora.

"Well, _apparently_ they were bigger than most of the other girls. They didn't look all that big to me, though."

I crack up laughing. Then I lean up and kiss him slowly. "Thanks for an... amazing and unforgettable, early birthday present."

"You're welcome."

After a while, Eric gets up from the sofa, puts back on his pair of jeans that are lying on the floor, and disappears for a few minutes. When he returns, he's holding two bowls of plain vanilla ice-cream. One has a blue candle stuck in a big scoop at a weird angle; He hands it to me, and starts singing _happy birthday_ in another language, and I giggle because he sounds slightly off-key, and the language that he is singing in sounds odd. After he's done, he grins at me, and I make a wish and blow out the single, lonely candle loudly. It is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me.

"What language were you singing in just then?" I ask, interested, as he sits beside me again.

"Swedish." He smiles, a bit embarrassed. "When I was younger, my father would sing that to me every birthday. Before he went all psycho and fucked-up, anyway."

"Let me just put on some clothes; It feels weird eating ice-cream in the nude."

I hand him the bowl to hold for a second, and he watches me as I put on my underwear and T-shirt without comment. Sitting back down on the sofa with him in clothes, I feel better. I start mushing the vanilla ice-cream around with my spoon. Eric watches me do it as though I'm an alien species or something.

"What are you doing to that ice-cream, Stackhouse?"

"What? It tastes better when it's all mushy."

"Does it?" He asks, full of disbelief.

"It does. In my opinion anyway..."

He starts stirring his ice-cream too, until it goes all runny and milky. Then he takes a slurp of it with his spoon. I smile to myself.

"It's good, right?" I ask cheerfully.

"Oddly enough, it is. You're right. It does taste better like this."

I tongue around my spoon, then feel embarrassed. It must look so wrong. Suggestive, even. "Told you so."

Eating ice-cream after sex is oddly fun. I feel a weird rush of exaltation knowing that he is my first, and it wasn't that painful or embarrassing. No, it was rather nice. No regrets. I can't imagine a more considerate and gentle person I could have experienced it with. Tara was right, in the fact that you never forget your first. I know I will never forget this.

* * *

**This was so challenging to write lol. I hope I didn't do terribly. I want to thank you all for being so supportive, and for the amazing reviews and alerts I have received. You're all so sweet! As for now, I am sorry, and I'm going to run and hide for years LOL!**


	15. Only Exception

**Thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) x**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

It's hard to know how to act cool when just several hours ago two people did something so personal, so intimate together. But I take a leaf out of Eric's book, and ignore him, like he does me, when he comes over in the evening for poker night.

I pretend, pretend as though my heart isn't beating madly in my chest when his truck pulls into the yard. I pretend my hands don't go all clammy when he comes inside, with a carton of beer hooked around his fingers. But I can't help myself from peeking when he enters indifferently into the kitchen, his head bent at an angle as he peers inside the refrigerator to find an empty place to store his beer inside, and his jeans hang so loosely around his backside that the waistband of his underwear is exposed. The need to yank up his jeans gets so intense, so poignant, that I find myself unable to resist. Jason gets a quick distraction from Hoyt, so urgently, when I know Jason isn't looking, I move over towards where he is bending down over the refrigerator, curl my pointer finger through one of the loops at the back of his jeans, and pull up, up.

He turns to look at me over his shoulder, grins at me silently, and when I look over at Jason a second later, he is surveying us intently. Quickly, to repair everything, I bend down and pretend to show him where to shove in his beers. When I straighten up, luckily, Jason has turned his back on us and is looking elsewhere. Eric jerks his carton of beer inside and straightens up to give me a look, and then that's all that happens between us tonight. But then merely a look and a smile from him seems enough.

* * *

Back at school, much to my horror, Tara has made a huge fuss of it being my eighteenth birthday. Arlene and Amy, too. Completely surprising me, they manage to sneak in a birthday cake at lunch, and present me birthday presents. Arlene brought me some pretty nail polish, called 'Coral Blue', and Tara brought me a key-chain with two cute little cartoons on it, that are hugging, and plenty of other things that leave me feeling horribly spoilt.

Even Bill Compton gets me a gift. He gives me a whole pack of Reece's Buttercups, and hugs me in an extremely tight way. I've always known Bill has harboured a secret crush on me, but I certainly wasn't expecting him to get me a gift and give me a birthday hug. When I get home from school, it is another birthday cake from Gran, and soon I'm feeling all caked-out and spoilt with sugar.

When it hits nine, I head off to bed after kissing Gran goodnight on the cheek, and lounge around on my bed, peeling open wrappers of Buttercups and stuffing them into my mouth. Birthday's can be great, sometimes. You can eat all the bad stuff you ever possibly want, until you get nauseous. Eric picks the unfortunate moment to call me on my cell phone while I'm eating. I say hello, but my voice sounds all weird, since my mouth is crammed full with chocolate.

"What are you doing, Stackhouse?" he asks, sounding teasingly appalled.

"Eating." The peanut-butter gets stuck on the roof of my mouth, so my voice is all slurry and weird.

Eric laughs. "Why? Or maybe a better question to ask: What?"

"I'm eating a Reece's Buttercup. And as to why, well, I guess I'm in a chocolate mood right now. And plus, it's my birthday."

"Where did you get a Reece's Buttercup from?"

I laugh. "Are you jealous?"

"Maybe." A pause. "Give me some."

"I can't give you some, though. It isn't possible. Maybe if I could transfer you some from through the phone, I would..."

"Where'd you get it?"

"A friend gave it to me as a birthday present."

"Which friend? Tara?"

"Nope."

"Another friend who is a girl that I don't know the name of? One of the girl's who went skinny-dipping in the pond that night?"

"Nope. Guess again."

"A guy friend, then?"

"Yep. His name is Bill," I say, scrunching up the empty orange wrapper between my fingers. "He knows I like them. He said he didn't know what else to get me as a present, so he decided on Reece's Buttercups."

"A guy friend called Bill gives you chocolate-covered candy?"

"Yep, he did. I might have mentioned that they were my favourite one time."

"I didn't know they were your favourite, Stackhouse. Otherwise, I might have bothered to get you some."

I smile into the phone. "But you already gave me an early birthday present to remember for the rest of my life. Memories last longer than silly candy!"

"Well, at least now I know what your favourite candy is. Always good to know..." He trails off in silence for a moment, then says, "Do you know the best tactic guy's use to get into a girl's pants?"

"What? Buy her candy?"

"Yes, exactly right. Candy is the way to a beautiful girl's heart. And also, a sly attempt to get into her underwear."

"Gross." I think of Bill and me doing what Eric and I did, and I just... I can't. I shudder. "No way is he getting into my pants."

"Well, I certainly hope not. You can tell this Bill, whoever he is... that if he buys you chocolate-covered candy again in the attempt to woo you, I'll break his fucking neck."

I can't tell whether he is being silly or not, but he kind of sounds as if he is, so I laugh anyway. "Oh, come on. He wasn't attempting to woo me on the sly. He was just being... nice. Bill is totally not the type of guy, I know he isn't!"

"Well, you'll be surprised at the number of guy's who would. I was that age once. Trust me."

The conversation feels rather weird, so I attempt to shift it off into another direction. "What are you doing right now?"

He inhales deeply. "Sitting on my sofa." I close my eyes and imagine him sitting there, on the very same sleeper-sofa I lost my virginity on, in that unpacked and unorganized apartment of his. It leaves me feeling a bit bad for him.

"Have you unpacked your things yet?"

"No. I was starting to get around to it, but then I can't really be fucked."

"You'll have to sooner or later, otherwise... it won't feel like a real home."

"I wish you were here with me," he says quietly, reluctantly. "It would feel more like home to me then."

"Me too," I say, my eyes still closed. I can picture that just perfectly. "I wish I-" Oh, shit.

Someone knocks gently on my bedroom door, and I hide my phone quickly underneath my pillows. I call out, saying it's okay for them to enter, and I can see my brother's silhouette sticking halfway in and out my door into the hallway.

"You're not asleep yet, sis? Don't forget you have school tomorrow."

"I know." I pretend to yawn. "I got too much on my mind, though."

"You can come talk to me if you want to, sleep in my room." His voice is light, and nervous. I scowl in the shadows. When I was younger, a few years after our parent's died, sometimes I would go into Jason's room of a night, and we would sit up and talk, mainly share light-hearted stories about our parents. I don't really understand why he would expect I still need him when I'm unable to sleep, though. After all, I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm eighteen now.

"Thanks for the offer, Big Bro." I try to sound as sleepy as possible, throw in another big yawn. "Maybe another time, though."

"All right. Love you, sis. Happy birthday again."

"Yeah, love you too. And thanks, I've been so spoiled tonight."

Once he slides back out of my door, and I hear it close, I listen to his feet retreating down the hallway to his room before I pick up the phone again. When I pick up my phone again, I hear boxes being opened in the background and Eric humming faintly to himself.

"I'm back," I announce, grinning.

"So, you are. Was that your brother I heard in the background?"

"Yep, it was."

"Did he hear all that wrapper crunching you were making, and decided to come and investigate?"

"Ha-ha. No."

"Checking up on his precious, little baby-sister..."

"Oh, shut up, Northman." It makes me feel incredibly touchy. It takes me a moment to think of an appropriate come-back. "You should feel thoroughly disgusted with yourself. You screwed the precious, little baby-sister you're talking about!"

"Ouch," he breathes, playfully wounded. "Actually, it's probably a good thing you're not here right now."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" I ask, challenging him.

"Because if you said that in front of my face..." He laughs breathlessly. Then I hear him take in a deep breath to compose himself. "If you said that in front of me, I would do it again, just to wipe the look off your face..."

"Do what again?"

"You know what."

"I don't believe I do."

"Come over, and I'll demonstrate." He sighs. "Come over."

"I can't, though." Damn, I wish I could. "You know I can't."

"I'll get in my truck right now. I'll come pick you up." By his serious tone of voice, I'd say he is only half-kidding. "Sneak out of your window."

"But I can't sneak out of my window." I laugh just imagining it. "I'd fall, and probably break my leg."

"Not if I catch you first."

"Then you'll break _your_ leg, because I would be so heavy."

"So? Who cares?"

"I do, and I'd feel awful about it, because it would be my fault." I realize it must be so late. And damn, school tomorrow. I would be perfectly content talking to him all night, saying nothing important, just being silly, and listening to his voice. But I can't. "I've really got to go. It's a school night."

"Fine then. I'll let you get to sleep. Happy birthday." I close my eyes again, and listen to his voice, really taking it in, pretending he is with me. "Goodnight, Stackhouse. Kiss my belly button goodnight for me."

Grinning sadly into the phone, I say, "Tell me a secret, before you go. One that no one else knows about yourself."

"All right. I love Jason Stackhouse's little sister. Always will."

* * *

Next weekend following, we're at a football game.

Every weekend once a month we have football games. Tonight, it is Bon Temps High versus Shreveport High. We're behind by ten points. I've learned through my brother and his friends that watching live games can turn men into vocal, testosterone-fuelled, frustrated animals. Jason gets so invested in it that he swears like a sailor down at the players out on the field and throws his hands around manically like he is on speed. Even though Tara is a girl, she's very much the same.

When Shreveport takes another goal, she stands up from the bench next to me, shouts politely "You fucking assholes!" and curses underneath her breath, as she sits back down next to me. I just smile at her, and laugh. I'll never understand why people take football games so seriously. Like, what's the big deal? It's just a game, isn't it? Big hoo-ha.

Down in front of us, in the bench below us, is Jason and his friends. Hoyt is cramming down a hot dog, and manages to spill sauce all over his chin. Alcide's brought Debbie with him, and she looks stunned every time he screams bloody murder at the players. I guess by attending a football game with your man is a very revealing process; It tells you a lot about the guy you're with. Eric is here, too, but he isn't going crazy like my brother is. He seems perfectly content sitting there, just letting the game run its natural course, but the disappointment in the low scores is show-cased all over his face.

He doesn't look behind at me, and I'm careful not to look in his direction.

We can't.

It is just the way we are. And it is getting slightly easier, from my viewpoint anyway. At least we can chat on the phone at night, and not care who hears what we say to one another. Eric calls me, sometimes every night, and I love it. It honestly makes my night, just hearing his voice and talking. And it seems it is that way for him, also.

But then I notice a girl from a few seats away in his row nudge her friend, and point over at him. I can hear them practically fussing over how gorgeous he is. While I can't blame them, because he_ is_ gorgeous, I feel a bit miffed.

_Whoever you are, back off, please. He is mine._

After a very long time that seems like torture, the game finally ends, and Bon Temps loses. We haven't won in a very long time, though, so I don't understand why everybody is so surprised over it. We all stand from the benches, and the girl from before dares to push her way over to Eric. She flips her hair over to one side, and he bends down so she can say something loudly in his ear. I don't know what that particular something is, but I hate it, whatever she is saying to him.

_Back off. He is mine. Please, just go away._

I cringe at how silly and possessive I'm being. It isn't like he is mine. No one can be another persons. At least, I don't think they really can.

He leans down so that he can whisper something back into her ear, and though I'm trying my very hardest not to watch, I just can't help it. The girl's face drops, and judging by the way she scrunches up her face, it seems he is telling her something she isn't all that pleased to hear. I can see by the way his jaw twitches that he is saying something to her, something real forceful. She twists away from him and returns to her friend, reprimanded, like a dog with its tail hanging between its hind legs. Eric turns and says something to Jason, and Jason laughs hysterically.

When I ask Jason what went on in his car on the ride to Merlotte's so that all the boys can drown their sorrows with a countless number of beers, he laughs again at the mention of it and says that Eric told the girl he was gay, and shot her down.

* * *

Eric slides into the chair next to me, and his hand goes underneath my top and rubs around my back, since Jason is facing the other way and we won't be caught-out. Jason has relaxed a little after the game, but he is still pissed-off that Bon Temps lost. I absolutely love Eric's hand on my skin, and I try not to wiggle around too much. It feels like I'm on fire, I am deliciously on fire, everywhere the pads of his fingers stroke me on the lower part of my back. It makes me almost wish we were back at his house again, in privacy, on his sleeper-sofa together.

"You're gay, huh?" I whisper into his ear very quietly with a smile.

He keeps his eyes on Jason, smiling slightly. "I am."

"That's funny, then."

"Why is it?" He sends a quick look in my direction; Meeting my eyes for the quickest of a second.

"Because I would have thought differently. Especially on the day before my eighteenth birthday."

He pulls his hand out from under the back of my shirt and settles his hand on his right kneecap. "I'm gay to other women with the exception of only one, Stackhouse."

"Right. And who might that lucky girl be?"

"You know who it is."

I smile sweetly and say, "Me, I hope?"

"Who else do you think it is?" He brings his beer up to his lips, and turns his head over to look at me. He looks slightly agitated and annoyed. I don't know what I've done, but I'm presuming I've done something to make him feel that way. After all, he seemed perfectly fine just seconds ago. We were teasing then, right? We were being playful and carefree. So, what have I gone and done? He tilts his head back and swallows down a long mouthful of beer, then he licks his lips and sets it back on the table. One of his hands goes underneath the table, grabbing my kneecap closest to him. "We're together, right?"

"Right now, yeah. Of course, we are. We're here in Merlotte's, aren't we?"

I can see he is gritting his teeth by the way his jaw clenches and twitches. He removes his hand from my knee, and uses his fingers to rub around his forehead. "I don't mean like that, Stackhouse."

"Oh." It takes me a belated moment to get it. He meant_ together_, together. "Uh, yeah. Of course, we are."

He leans over and presses his palm into my hand. "When I say I'm gay to other girls, it is a way to let them down quickly," he explains quietly. "This is how I do things. I don't want anyone else. I'm not going to go-off with anyone else, just to keep Jason from getting suspicious, all right?"

"All right." And I can't deny, I like it that way. "It's the same for me too, obviously. I mean, I don't want to see anyone else."

"What about that guy at your school?"

"What guy?" I ask, confused.

"You know, the guy that gave you candy? _Bill_?"

I tilt my head over so that my mouth is just above his earlobe, "What about him? It was a birthday gift. Doesn't mean nothing."

He leans back in the chair. Then after a moment, he tilts his head over until his lips brush over my ear. His breath is burning hot. "It means he wants to have sex with you," he says, his lips scraping over my earlobe. It sends shivers all over me.

"No, it doesn't," I disagree strongly, keeping my eyes on the back of Jason's head.

"I'm a guy, Stackhouse. I know what it means," he whispers back, breathing all over me.

"Well, too bad," I mutter, trying to make a joke out of it, sending it back for all its worth, "because I'm a lesbian with the exception of one guy. _He_ is the only one I want." I lean my head against his shoulder, and my heart stops for one single second with dread as Jason turns back to look at me briefly. He sees me, he sees our closeness, and I think maybe I should lift my head off Eric before he gets too suspicious, but then I decide, _what the hell._ I don't care. If he finds out, what is the worst that can possibly happen? I'm allowed to do whatever I want, so I decide not to move. It's too comfortable, leaning against Eric, anyway. If Jason finds out, then so be it.

* * *

**I want to thank you all so much for being so lovely and amazing. I feel like I never say it enough. You're all such an encouraging bunch of people. I get anxious constantly about updating, and like everything I write is so silly. But thank you all for giving me confidence! I wish I could somehow send each and every single one of your a virtual hug. It truly makes my day that you seem interested in my writing and the story. I feel like I'm writing it wrong, or doing it wrong somehow. So thank you all a whole bunch! xxx**


	16. Going All The Way

**Whoa, I'm really humbled by the response I've received. I get so nervous about updating, as I know for a fact that I'm a bad writer. Thank you all for encouraging me. Hoping you enjoy this one *wink, wink*.**

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Tara and I are lounging around in my front yard in our bikinis, working on getting a tan. Not that Tara needs it. She already has gorgeous brown, shiny-smooth skin that makes me constantly envious. If I want to tan evenly, then I need to stay out at least forty-five minutes. It isn't without painful, blistering sunburns, trust me.

"So, you finally did the deed with him, huh? Reveal all."

I sigh loudly, slipping my dark sunglasses over my eyes.

I've never understood why friend's feel the need to spill their guts on things so private. Tara has been asking me about it relentlessly all week.

"Did you know that Bill is only dating Lorena because he doesn't think he has a chance in hell of getting with you, and because you're so frigid and obsessed over one person?"

"Hey!" I smack her on the arm. "I am not frigid and I am _definitely not_ obsessed."

"Sure, you're not." She smacks me back playfully. "Let Bill Compton get with you then."

Jason picks this unfortunate moment to come down the steps of the porch. He takes one chiding look at Tara and me, shakes his head, and says, "Do I even wanna know what you two are talking about?"

"No way, Jason. Keep on walking unless you want to get emasculated. This is girl talk with your sister right here. You don't want to be hearing this shit." Tara holds out her hand eagerly and Jason high-fives her before speeding off to his truck.

"I'm just going around to pick up the boys," he tells us, and we both wave.

It's Sunday and Jason has the day off work. Earlier in the morning, he was doing yard work, which kept Gran in good spirits. Tara and I had waited until he was finished with mowing the lawn before we got out the lounge chaises, and so here we are.

Once he's gone and his truck fades out of sight, Tara shifts her head over to me and wags her dark eyebrows at me suggestively. "Quick, Sook. He's rounding up the boy's, which means your fellas coming over. Better go get yourself looking all hot for him!"

"Tara, shut up," I mutter, feeling myself turn a raging red.

"Seriously, though. Why not Bill Compton? What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong with him. He's... nice." But he isn't Eric.

"It's the glasses, isn't it?" she asks knowingly. "Oh, and the acne." She cracks up laughing.

"Tara, I'm not_ that_ judgemental," I sigh, crossing my legs.

"Then why not him? I think you'd look cute together, and he's got a real serious thing for you. I can just tell."

"Tara Thornton, this topic of conversation is over. Now drop it, please."

She does, thank goodness. "Fine, it's dropped," she sighs. Then she says, "But when are you and lover-man gonna fuck again?"

"Tara!" I knew it. I knew she wouldn't let it go.

"Well, anyway. I'm here if you need me, as a friend to help you if you get far too sexually frustrated with not boning him again." She wiggles her eyebrows. "If you know what I mean, baby girl."

"Tara, you're disgusting."

"You know you love me."

Fifteen minutes later, my phone vibrates in my lap, telling me I've got a text. I read it when Tara isn't looking. It's from Eric: _Coming over. On way. _I smile to myself, and text back:_ Good._

Things have been great. Though we haven't seen each other since that day at the football game, we spend nearly every night talking to each other on the phone and having random conversations about basically nothing. When he arrives, Jason's car is loaded with all the boy's.

Guess a poker game is in the midst.

* * *

When we come inside with our towels wrapped around ourselves, we are greeted like two lost friends that have gone missing for hours. Everybody around the table yells in rowdy voices: "Hey, pretty girls!" Jason and Hoyt definitely sound three sheets to the wind. I peek over at Eric, who was the only one who didn't join in on the greeting. I'm guessing he is back to ignoring me again, which feels lovely. Not. He looks immediately down at the cards he has in his hands and doesn't say anything to me.

Alcide looks up from studying his cards. "It was real good seeing you last week with Eric. What did you think of my Debbie?"

Oh, shit.

"Yeah, she's real lovely," I croak out, hoping Jason doesn't catch on.

Much to my misfortune, he does. He peers up from his card to look at Eric quizzically. "Hey, you two went out last week?" Obviously tipsy, he's still smart enough not to miss anything. "You never said anything about it to me?"

Eric stares down at his cards with a bit more forced concentration. "Yeah, we just went out for lunch. Then we ran into Alcide and Debbie."

My eyes dart between them nervously. Eric is studying his cards, but his cheeks redden with the slightest hint of color, and he presses his lips together into a thin line. He's worried we're going to be caught out, too. Jason just stares at him in contemplation.

"Why didn't you tell me you went out with my sister?"

"We never went out, like a date-date type of thing. It was just a nice thing to do for her birthday. That's it, man. Nothing else to it."

Luckily, the conversation is dropped, and they move onto other boring things. I can feel Jason looking at me hard, though.

* * *

After it has reached ten-thirty, I see Tara off outside and watch her car fade off the bend of the driveway out of sight. It's been a pretty fun night so far, despite what Alcide unintentionally let out of the bag about Eric and I eating lunch out together. When I stroll back into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear, I discover Eric's seat is empty, and his cards are left face-down on the table. I trot my way upstairs, guessing he is in the bathroom. And, surely enough, I'm right. The bathroom door is closed.

I push through the bathroom without knocking, finding Eric standing by the toilet taking a leak.

He peers over his shoulder at me in surprise. "What are you doing in here?" he asks warily. "Did anyone see you come up here?"

"Nope. We're in the clear for the time being."

He pulls up his fly vigorously, flushes the toilet, and turns to look at me, utterly unsuspecting of my intentions.

"What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much." I smile at him sweetly, then cross the distance between us, my bare feet slapping against the tiles. Daringly, I slide my hand underneath his shirt, tracing his happy-trail with my fingers. His entire body stiffens at my not-so-innocent touching.

"Oh, I think you're up to no good, Stackhouse," he says with a breathless laugh. "I think you came up here just to tease me."

"Well, you thought right," I sass him back, trying to sound flirtatious. Fortunately, I succeed. I'm so close to dipping my fingers down the waistband of his jeans that it thrills me in some wicked sense.

He captures my wrist and yanks it away from his jeans. Our faces are so near that the tip of his nose strokes up against mine. We're having a face-off. "Don't, Stackhouse."

I frown. "Why not, huh?"

He is panting loudly. "Jason's downstairs."

"So?" I breathe carelessly. I try to yank my hand free. "Who cares?"

"I do. And I said don't." His voice is a growl. His mouth is inches from mine, and he is breathing all over my lips. "Not here, all right?"

_Dammit, why not? Now is a good enough time as any._

"Who cares if my brother finds out? We're both two mature, consenting adults here."

"No." Since he's so close, I manage to kiss his upper lip. He gives in, kisses me back tentatively, but he is controlling the situation, and taking charge. He won't let me touch him. He grabs both my hands in his, and keeps pushing them away each and every time I try to. It's the most irritating thing in the entire universe.

"Please let me touch you," I beg desperately.

"No." It's obvious he isn't going to cave.

Glumly, I fling my hands out of his grasp, and backup a step, feeling a funny bitter tightness in my chest at being denied what I want. _Jesus, what the hell am I doing?_ I can hardly control myself around him. However, he is taking unfair charge of the situation. His hand grips my upper arm, and he pulls me along with him to the staircase. Once we tread down it, he releases me and looks me dead-on in the eye. He smiles at me mockingly.

"I'm going back to where the other boy's are. Behave yourself."

He swats me lightly on my backside in my shorts, I squirm in delight, and then he leaves with a wink at me. His face is full of triumph. Teasing bastard. _If that's the way he wants to play it, then fine. Two can play at this. Yes, oh yes, they can._

I join the boy's in the other room, while they sit around the table playing poker. Everyone is studying their cards so carefully, like poker is such a big deal. But to these men, it probably is. Only the good Lord himself knows how much money they've dared to bet and lose from each other every time they play. I walk around the table behind Alcide and peer over his shoulder at his cards. While I mightn't know much about poker, I'd say it isn't looking too good for him.

He turns slowly in his seat to peer back at me. "You need something, Sook?" he asks, in his deep, gruff voice.

I smile at him innocently. "Nope. I've just decided to watch you boy's play your game. Why is everybody so intense and serious when they play? It's just a game, isn't it?"

Jason pipes up. "Hey, it isn't just a game. I bet forty bucks on this one, sis. I'll be damned if I lose it." I stride over into his direction and take a look at his cards. He quickly presses them into his chest, shielding them from me. "What you doing? Don't be looking at my cards, sis!"

I roll my eyes at him. "Well, I'm sorry."

I ignore Hoyt's cards and go straight over to Eric next. I put my hand on his back, rubbing into his shirt with my palm. He tilts his head back to look at me. "Piss off, Stackhouse," he grumbles defensively, fanning his cards to his chest like Jason did. "Don't look at my cards neither."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I'll..." He trails off into silence, shrugging, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

"You'll what?" I tease. I pinch him tightly into his back with my fingers. He jerks from his seat in alarm, and whips around in his chair to look at me.

His expression is sincerely annoyed. "Stop it." He is speaking through gritted teeth at me.

I have to stifle a smile. "Stop what, Eric? I'm not doing nothing, am I?" Jeez, they take their game so seriously. It's ridiculous. I lean down and whisper in his ear, low enough so that just only he can hear me, "Payback is a bugger, isn't it?"

He stiffens immediately at my words.

Wow, I'm actually succeeding in riling him up.

I pinch him again, on his forearm this time, just to be a smart-ass. It well and truly does it.

"I'm done, boys," he sighs, slamming his pair of cards on the table. There is a loud murmur of protest from the group.

"What? We just started playing, man," Alcide grumbles.

"Man, you can't do that!" Jason cries in outrage.

"Well, I just did, didn't I? Too late now." He gets to his feet and turns to look at me, his eyes burning menacingly. Oh, shit. I crack up laughing. "It isn't an enjoyable game when somebody is snooping in on your cards," he mutters for my benefit.

"Oh, whoops. Did I ruin all your fun? My apologies."

"Payback is a bugger, Stackhouse," he says, mimicking me.

I smirk at him triumphantly.

"What's that cocky look on your face, Stackhouse?"

"What cocky look? I'm not doing nothing."

"Oh, I think you are."

We stand staring at each other, looking each other over challengingly. I take a few cautious step backwards, braced and ready to run. The tension is thick, I can feel he is about to do something not all that particularly pleasant to me as payback, and I'm loving every second of it. I'm uneasy with buzzing anticipation.

But then the atmosphere is instantly ruined, when Jason breaks in carelessly, spoiling it, "Northman, stop flirting with my little sis!"

I see the tips of his ears flush red in embarrassment. "What? I'm not."

"Yeah, you are," Hoyt keeps up, cackling with laughter. "It ain't cool, man."

I poke out my tongue at him and walk away from him, happily unharmed and unpunished- for the time being.

I head up into my room and get changed for bed, still expecting it to come sooner or later. Roughly five minutes later, it does. He sneaks into my room and closes the door extra-quietly from behind himself. He licks his lips, sees that I'm watching him, and approaches my bed. I'm coiled and ready for it to come my way, only it doesn't. He just sits down near me, pulling my head into his lap so I'm lying sideways across my bed. Just as I'm getting too complacent, he attacks without warning. He tickles me around my ribcage ruthlessly, leaving me kicking the mattress helplessly and squirming and trying to hold back really loud noises.

"Stop," I beg, once it becomes really painful on my gut. I feel like I can't breathe. "Please, Eric! Ah! I need to breathe!"

He grins at me and then he peers down at me like he is really studying my face and I lift my head from his lap and now he's kissing me. His lips are warm and soft and at first he gives me slow pecks on my mouth, on my lower lip, then my upper lip, lower lip again, and then he parts his lips wider and uses his tongue. Ah, finally. After all the silliness and teasing, it finally has happened. It feels as though I've been waiting decades for it. The confusing wave of sensations- I feel dizzy and hazy with blood rushing to my head from laying down in his lap- and the way he is kissing me with dizzying sensuality, just gently at the right pace; it makes happiness course through my veins. I find I'm lifting myself up slowly, and twisting myself around, because I have this insatiable urge to push him backwards onto my bed and climb all over him. My heart is pounding, and I feel my legs tremble. My toes are curling, as my tongue tentatively meets the tip of his warm one, and I find myself wanting more and more, like what we did on his sleeper-sofa that day before my birthday.

I twist around, and grip his upper arms, and now he has one hand on the lower part of my back under my shirt, while the other runs through the strands of my long hair gently. He pulls me more upright so I'm sitting directly over his cock and all I can think to myself is that I want a repercussion of sex with him so, _so_ badly I can hardly stand it. He starts running one of his calloused hands up and down my leg in my shorts, and it's exquisite torture. He stops kissing me with his tongue, just giving me tentative slow pecks again, and then all too soon, he pulls away and says unevenly,

"I think we better stop, before we get far too carried away."

But even though he says it, he starts kissing me again around my neck, and I'm left throbbing between the legs and weak-kneed.

"Getting carried away is a good thing." My voice sounds far too high, far too aroused. It is embarrassing. I think I hear footsteps outside my door creaking the floorboards- or maybe I'm simply only being paranoid. Probably am. "Actually, I think maybe we should," I pant sensibly.

He kisses my chin. "Do you want me to stop?" He's all warm body heat right now.

"Not really," I confess breathlessly. Well at least I'm honest.

"Then don't bother telling me to." His voice is curt, reprimanding, but shaky. He's unbuttoning his shirt.

He places his hands on my waist and draws me back over the bed on top of him. I straddle him, over his groin, and then he pulls his shirt apart. Just as I'm running my hands and fingers over his flat nipples and lean chest, he pops open his jeans. It takes me a breathless moment to process this.

_All right, we're really going all the way; despite Jason and everyone being downstairs._

**_Hope this chapter didn't suck silver, I get so nervous and self-conscious. I apologize if it is crappy.  
I plan to update again in a few days time. My apologies for taking so long! Thank you all for being awesome!_**


	17. I Don't Want To Be Your Secret

_**Thank you all so much for your reviews. It makes me so happy! Hope you enjoy this one! I promised not to leave you guys hanging for as long as before, and I'll keep my promise. :-) **_

_**Love to hear your thoughts.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

Afterwards, I jerk my head to look at him near me on the pillow, as he stares up at the ceiling thoughtfully; One hand is resting in his hair, and he curls around a strand absent-mindedly with his pointer finger. His forehead is glistening and bathed in a shiny sheen of sweat, and his cheeks are flushed. He looks unfairly good and relaxed after a session of sex, where I feel all wanton and sticky hot. It's almost enviable. After a moment he meets my eyes and looks as if he wants to laugh.

"Dear god, Stackhouse," he mutters quietly, still trying to regain his breath.

I smile back at him like a dope and turn slightly, resting the side of my cheek against my forearm.

I feel my brow crease with worry. I can hear the noises downstairs from beneath the floorboards. I can hear Jason talking boisterously. I can hear Hoyt laughing like the dag he is. I can hear Alcide growling in pure frustration. I wonder how long it'll take them to figure out Eric's missing. I had thought someone was approaching my bedroom door before. Turns out, I was wrong. It was suspicious thinking. Or maybe I should say _hopeful_ thinking? That someone would catch us out and finally we wouldn't have to hide what's happening between us anymore?

"You know we are going to have to tell my brother sooner or later what's going on," I breathe, in a voice just above a whisper. I'm so content I can hardly bring myself to speak in more than just a sluggish whisper.

He turns his eyes up to the ceiling above us again, and I see the way he raises his eyebrows in a way that makes his forehead scrunch up comically.

"What's_ that_ weird look for?" I ask, trying not to laugh.

"I don't know." He still looks up at the ceiling, not me, as he utters this quietly. He then licks around his lips slowly and sighs through his nostrils. "No, I mean... I know. I know you're right. It's just... complicated, you know?"

_Complicated._ There he goes again.

I sit up slowly, folding my arms over my knees. He sits up too, leaning his back against the bedpost.

"I mean, I don't know if this is anything you want to turn into something serious," I begin uncertainly, feeling all my muscles in my belly knot together and clench with apprehension. "I don't know what you want out of this. But if I can lay the cards out on the table and say this, without it hopefully scaring you away... then I'll confess that I _do_ wish this would turn into something far more serious than what it is."

I try to read his face carefully for any insight into how he is feeling with what I've just confessed. But I can't tell anything from his expression at all; It gives absolutely nada away. It is downright frustrating.

After a while, he finally speaks. "Well," he whispers, shifting down on the bed and rolling onto his side to prop his head on his hand, while he looks me over, "We could go make a full and prompt confession to your brother." My heart surges with hope for that; It is exactly what I am hoping to hear from him. But then he frowns grimly. "Only something tells me he wouldn't be very pleased to know I've had you twice, and that I'm hoping for a thousand more rounds with you until I cark it from having too much sex."

"We don't need to fess up that we've had sex with each other," I tell him. "I mean, we could always just say that we've grown... attracted to each other and that we're interested in dating. I know for a fact that Jason wouldn't like to hear we've had sex, too. So... why not keep _that_ part of it to ourselves? Whether we've had sex or not, it really isn't any of his beeswax." I can't even envision revealing to Jason that we've screwed behind his back. It frightens me to even imagine the crazy shit-storm that would ensue.

"Of course, we would keep the sex part to ourselves." He breathes out a shaky gust of laughter, which tells me then that he is joking about that side of it. Thank goodness. My entire body loosens in relief, and I find myself smiling gently along with him. "Could you image the look on his face, if we did? Jesus, Stackhouse. He'd fucking go nuts and beat the shit out of me. Then he would probably cut off my balls and shove them down my throat."

I grimace at his words. I don't even want to begin on wondering what Jason's reaction would be.

"Please don't be even saying things like that light-heartedly," I beg, feeling freaked. "I wouldn't ever want Jason to do anything horrible to you, if he did find out. It'd kill me." I look at him more seriously. "What would you think though, if I _did_ want to confess?" I ask, mostly testing the waters wonderingly. "Would you be pissed off?"

"No, I wouldn't be pissed off at you." He looks at me with total sincerity so I know he is being truthful. "But what concerns me the most... ultimately, is Jason's reaction to it. We've always been tight, and you are the most important thing in the world to him. He cares about you above anything else. And for him to know that one of his closest, most trusted friends have gone behind his back, with the very person he considers most important..." He trails off nervously, and tosses his head. "It would crush him."

I suck in a deep breath, before I say it, maybe to give myself some strength. "I just don't want to be your secret anymore. I don't want us to have to keep going on like this, where everything is kept hidden between us. I want to be like Debbie and Alcide."

"Debbie and Alcide?" He blinks at me. "What the fuck do you know about them? You only saw them twice. At that restaurant we went out to, and then at the football game." He laughs at me gently and widens his eyes, obviously perplexed by what I've said. "You don't know Alcide like I do, Stackhouse. We're tight. He reveals all about their relationship, when he's had a little bit too much to drink. He says she bitches and moans at him all the time, and that they argue every fucking night. Do you really want us to end up like that?"

I sigh loudly. He doesn't get it.

"But they're not a secret. They're together."

"What?" He sighs loudly. "And we're not? I told you, I want to be your boyfriend. I am. I'm not going to see anyone else, because you're the only one I want to see."

"You're not getting it," I say through my teeth, lifting my voice a notch. "They hold hands, and they show everybody that they're together. With us, we just hide, and you go out of your way to ignore me so Jason doesn't notice you looking at me in a certain way. Whereas, with Debbie and Alcide... they show that they're together in the real world. All we seem to do, is hide behind closed doors and text messages and nightly phone-calls. Alcide isn't ashamed to let the world know he is with Debbie."

He stares at me directly for a long moment. His eyes flicker with all various sorts of emotion; Confusion, frustration. Then warmth. "What, you think I'm ashamed to be seen with you? Not at all, Stackhouse. I just keep my distance because of Jason."

"Exactly," I mutter stiffly. "Always because of Jason."

He rubs his hand over his chin and I can see he is biting down on the tip of his tongue to refrain himself from raising his own voice. I use his silence to my advantage.

"You care more about what Jason'll think, than what you actually want."

"That's not true," he says, though gritted teeth. "I do it to protect you."

"_Protect_ me?" I repeat, scoffing in outrage. "No, you're protecting yourself. You're protecting your friendship."

"Jason and I have been friends for a very, _very_ long time. You and I; we've only just started all of this. What's more important? You think I _like_ the idea of jeopardizing the only one good friendship I've had, because of _this_?" He beats his hand down roughly against the pillow, and I can't help flinching. The muscles on my face bunch together painfully. I feel as if I want to cry, but try not to by grinding my teeth together to prevent it from happening. It is the very last thing I want to do in front of him. "You think I actually wanted to dig myself into this mess?" He goes on ruthlessly in a harsh, whispered voice. "No. I never expected this would have actually happened between us. I thought I had firm grasp on my feelings for you, but clearly not. Now I've dug myself into this fucking mess where there is no way out whatsoever!"

"Well, if you truly feel that way, it's done," I say.

He laughs bitterly.

"I'm serious," I insist weakly. "It's done. If you feel this bad about it, because it might potentially ruin your precious friendship with my brother, then fine. _Now_ I _know_ where your feelings truly stand. Thank you." I cover my hands over my face, palming my eyes. I'm mighty pleased and proud of myself to note that I've managed to keep my tears at bay, despite all the pain and aching hurt I'm feeling inside. "Your friendship with my brother means way more to you than starting a serious relationship with me. I get that now. But what I will not stand for, is being a secret. I don't want to be anybody's secret, so if you truly feel that way, then _please_..." I falter miserably, hating how wobbly and vulnerable my voice is. It certainly helps that I am not looking at him though, while I say this.

Everything is silent between us for a very long moment. I realize he is waiting for me to continue, because he goads with icy frustration, "Please _what_? What?"

"_Please_ just get out of my bed. Stay away from me."

"Shut the fuck up, Stackhouse," he says after a moment. It sounds as if he is trying to sound playful in saying that, but the undercurrent of disbelief and anger is more than obvious in his tone.

So, taking matters into my own hands, I crawl out of my bed and pick up my shorts and shirt that lays in an accusing pile on the floor. I throw my shirt back on without daring to look at him. I search around for my underwear, but can't seem to find it anywhere. When I shake out his jeans they fall out of his pocket in a bunch. _Always wanting to steal my panties, Jeez Louise. _Just as I bend my legs and start to slide them on, Eric reaches over and snatches them from me.

"Why'd you do that?" I ask angrily. I can't even endure looking at him.

He laughs at me, so I hit him as hard as I possibly can against the side of his shoulder.

"I'm serious! Stop stealing my underwear, you weirdo! Those are _mine_! Just _give them_ to me!"

"I'm serious as well." He holds me in place by the forearm. He tries to pull me closer. I try to pull away, only he doesn't let me. "Shut the fuck up. _Don't_ say shit _to me_ that you know you don't mean, Stackhouse!"

I hold strong and force myself to look up at him. It's odd to be arguing when he is stark-naked standing before me, and clutching my underwear in his other hand. I wrench my arm away, and finally manage to fling myself free. "I do mean it!"

"No, you _don't_!

"I'm tired of being your little secret," I keep up. "I don't want to be with somebody who is scared to be with me."

At that, he presses his lips together tightly and looks away, down at his sock-clad feet, his jaw grinding in silent fury; The fingers on his left hand absent-mindedly clench and unclench as he grips the material of my underwear into a ball, and then he lets my panties fall from his fingers to his feet and turns slowly to collect his clothes off the floor. I win, but somehow winning this one doesn't make me feel happy in the slightest.


	18. Violent Jealousy

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**Hoping you enjoy this one!**

* * *

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

And so, we move onto a new game. A game of avoidance and strategic, sneaky peeks every once in a while. He doesn't call me nightly for talks anymore. He doesn't talk to me at all, or text me. It hurts- but hey, what can I do about it?

Even though I'm ignoring him and giving it my best shot- I know he is here in the bar at Merlotte's. I can feel him, almost. I despise that I am so attuned to his presence, when Lord knows I don't want to be. I want to be anything but. I want to be able to ignore him, just as he so easily does with me. I want to not be affected by him. I can hear him and Hoyt over the music. He's sitting at the table across from us with Hoyt, his back turned to me, turning his bottle of Budweiser beer over and over in his hands. I need to pee, so I stand up from my chair and purposefully ignore him as I stride past him. But I see out of the corner of my eyes his head turn up to me, as I do. I can feel his eyes on me all the way to the female restrooms.

When I push through the door, I spot instantly Debbie and Alcide standing together by the dank wall. Alcide has managed to sneak into the lady's restroom unnoticed. Sneaky cad.

"What you think of my new hair, babe?" I hear her ask him. I watch him as he gives her a tender look, raising his hand and trailing his fingers through the length of her hair. "I think it looks beautiful, babe," he says, his voice husky with sincerity.

She smiles at him and her hand drifts behind to his buttocks in his jeans, caressing and squeezing his bottom. He makes a very deep noise in his throat, to show how much it turns him on.

Though I'm trying to be quiet and not invade in their moment, the pair of them turn to look at me with some surprise. I feel guilty, as though I've been caught out spying on something I shouldn't be doing.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt on you both," I mutter apologetically. "I've just got to go to the bathroom." I'm really stating the obvious here, because why else would someone go into the bathroom for anything else? But who cares? I really don't.

They go on as if I haven't been there. Alcide starts ramming his tongue down her throat, and she makes low moans at him. I recall what Eric said, about how fucked up apparently their relationship is, how they argue a lot, how she whines at him. Just by observing them go at it like two honeymooners, I am filled with disbelief: They certainly look pretty cosy and happy with one another. To an outsider looking in, anyway.

I lock the stall behind me and try to ignore their moans as much as I possibly can, while I pee. I flush the button once I'm done, and once I return out, I realize Alcide is gone and Debbie is just standing there, peering at her reflection in the mirror. She looks all happy and flushed. She is applying some lipstick and primping her light brown hair, teasing it with her fingers so it looks all puffy and messy.

"Your hair looks real good," I tell her, as I stand around washing my hands with soap.

Her eyes turn to meet mine in the mirror. "Well, thanks. I wasn't so sure about it. But Alcide seems to like it lots." She turns her angular face to the side, contemplating her new look. The new choppy, shoulder-length hair cut definitely suits her. She looks the same as I saw her in the restaurant that time. She definitely seems like a jeans and tube-top kind of girl, at heart. She's wearing high heels and her tube-top is a florescent pink. "You look real cute," she says, eyeing my outfit in the mirror again. I smile at her self-consciously. "How old are you again? Sixteen?"

At that comment, I find I almost hate her.

"Eighteen," I say, setting the story straight.

Her eyes widen at me, and her smile goes even wider. "Really? You look so little. Where the fuck does time go? Seriously? Alcide was only just telling me about Jason's little sister being in high school, and all. I thought you were more around sixteen in age, by the sounds of it..."

I guess that is what I'll constantly only be known as. Jason Stackhouse's little sister.

While I apply my own peach lip-gloss, she starts playing with her hair again. She starts talking to me. She tries to tell me how her and Alcide first met. She thinks she is totally, madly, in love with him. She says he is a hottie, and that she is so pleased he seems to be fond of her new haircut. Then, much to my misfortune, she has an epiphany and recalls how she saw me and Eric out together at lunch.

"Hey," she says, turning to me, "You were with Eric that time, right? You're the chick that he was with, who spilled beer all over the table." She laughs at that recollection.

I plant on a smile and nod. I'm still embarrassed about it, honestly.

"You two look like you're going through a tiff," she goes on, irritating me, "You looked pretty close before, and now... it's like you can hardly stand looking at each other. What's all that about?"

I don't know why I'm so shocked that she has managed to pick up on that, but I am. Heck, were we really that obvious?

"I really don't know why you think that," I tell her, pretending to be confused. I feel as red as lobster in the face, though. "We're cool. Eric can just be an... asshole at times."

"Oh, tell me about it," she gushes. She rolls her eyes at me. "Did you hear how he broke up from his girlfriend? Apparently, they had done the distance, but the way he broke up with her..." She shudders. "Man, I'd be hell pissed if Alcide ever ended things with me like that."

I can't help myself from asking it, but I do. "Why? What happened?"

"He was just a real jerk about it. She totally wasn't even expecting it. He just showed up one night out of the blue, informing her that they were done and that it was time for them to move on without each other. I mean, how callous can you be, right?"

"Are you good friends with Pam?"

"I am. Well, I was. 'Till he ended things with her, I don't see her 'round too much. I did see her one time, and she looked real good. She's seeing a new fella, I think."

"Oh, well. Good for her."

"Yeah." She teases her hair once more with her fingers, then turns to look at me. "See ya back out there, right?" She must think we're friends, or something. But for some reason, I'm actually real glad by the turn of our conversation. She seems rather nice and friendly.

"Yeah, of course." When she's gone, clicking off in her heels, I stare at my reflection in the mirror for a few good minutes, trying to remind myself to get back into the mindset of this weird game of avoidance. You can do this, I repeat to myself. Then I try to put an earnest smile on my face. I have no luck. My reflection grimaces back at me sadly. Oh, well. At least I'm trying.

When I head back out, I go straight to the dance floor and the people dancing. This is my thing. I think sometimes that dancing at Merlotte's is the only thing that makes me feel good, that makes me feel like the best girl in the world. But it also invites unwarranted attention, time and time again. You would think I'd have learned my lesson by now, wouldn't you? A random guy spots me dancing alone, and slithers over to me.

"Howdy," he says in my ear, his breath hot.

"Howdy yourself."

He takes his hands in mine, and we start moving together. I get so into it; into jamming with this random guy, that everyone else begins to not matter anymore. He tries to look deep into my eyes with his dark ones, as we do a sort of wriggling move with our bodies closely together, like centipedes. I see him through the lights and realize he is rather cute. He looks roughly Eric's age, in the mid-twenties. His short dark hair is pushed up with gel and all spiky. His smile is deviant, and his eyes are burning as he tries to hold mine in cheekily. He has dimples when he smiles so big and broad at me, and he looks a little scruffy and naughty. I don't know how long we dance for to the music blaring from the Jukebox, but when 'Hurt So Good' by John Mellencamp starts playing, he spins me around, sliding his hands around my waist, holding me close into his chest. We get all sweaty and into the groove, and it leaves me feeling breathless and high. I am floating. I am weightless. I am alive. I have no troubles. I am in control. Eric who?

I can feel him breathing in my ear, as he puts his mouth by it. "You're real pretty," he says, and I feel a big smile stretching over my lips.

"Thanks," I say back over the music, feeling pink all over with delight, "You're very cute yourself. And a good dancer, too."

"Well, that's only 'cause I have a great dancer with me to do it with."

I look over my shoulder into the direction of where the boy's are. My brother is looking at me with such a meaningful look of condemnation that I have to look elsewhere because it is too profound. He definitely doesn't like me getting like this and dancing with strangers. Hoyt is staring at me with glassy eyes, and there are beers scattered all over the table, and he is definitely three sheets to the wind and not counting on stopping his drinking anytime soon. When I let my eyes fall onto Eric, he is leaning back in the chair with his long legs outstretched in front of him. His looking at me is soft and hard, all at once. His eyes are arresting, and they hold me in. His look is pure fucking jealousy. Then his eyes are looking over my dancing partner hard, and it's all intense scrutiny and mean, contemptuous thoughts playing across his features. He brings his eyes back to me, I give him a reluctant smile, the first one in what seems days, and then he pulls himself to his feet. Purposefully, I look away.

"I'm Ben by the way," my dimply dancing partner informs me with. "Ben Warlow. What's your name?"

"Sookie Stackhouse," I call back breathlessly.

"You're big on dancing, aren't you, Sookie?"

"Yep, I certainly am." There really isn't no use in hiding it.

"Can I give you my number after this?"

"Sure," I say back, surprised. "I would really love that."

That gives him more courage to get up closer and personal, then. His breath is warm against the nape of my neck, and it gives me the chills. I feel the power in his strong grasping of my hips, as he guides me along with him. His chest is pressed right up against me. I try to picture myself getting to know him. It would be fun, and effortless. Easy. We could easily start dating, and he seems a very nice and cute boy. Plus, he would hardly care if we went public with it, unlike some people.

I feel a bit shifty then for leading him on, especially when I know for a fact that my heart is set on one person in particular. Only, that one person doesn't want me in the way I want him. He doesn't want a public relationship. So why shouldn't I start to get to know other guys, and move on? If I was feeling a bit bad then, I feel a million times worse when I look up and find Eric is standing in front of me. He tries to say something to me, but I can't hear him, the music is too loud. He's trying to start a conversation with me, and I can see clear as day the frustrated look on his face that he isn't getting through to me the way he wants to. I try to move subtly away from my enthusiastic dancer, but then suddenly he is pushed away from me with force, and then I realize Eric and Mr. Dimples are having a stand-off. Things have gone from awkward to worse at the rate of an uneasy heartbeat. Eric throws a punch suddenly at Ben's face, and Ben staggers backwards, knocking into a woman, and then everyone dancing sort of stops and looks, really taking notice. Now everyone is staring at us.

I find myself unable to move at all, as I watch Eric's face crack into anger. He gets real close to Ben's face, and shouts something at him that I'm unable to hear. And then, being pushed by Eric well enough, Ben starts fighting back. Eric is taller, but Ben is more beefy and stockier. He pushes Eric at the chest and then Eric hits him in the face another time. The impact of his fist hitting him is so loud, I can hear it from where I stand around, frozen and scared. Everyone has sort of cleared away from the dance-floor to circle around them, and then Ben scruffs Eric by the neck of his shirt and starts laying on him; He hits Eric in the stomach, face, and neck. I try to get in between the pair, but then someone grabs me by the arm and pulls me back.

It's Alcide.

With a big yank, I manage to get my arm free. He can't hold me back. No way in hell can he.

"Eric, cut it out!" I scream at him, fury wracking my body. "Stop it, you psycho!"

I push my way in between them, even though I know it isn't the most smartest thing to do. Ben accidentally knocks into me, and then it incenses Eric even more to the point where he looks murderous.

"Don't fucking go near her!" I hear him yell horribly through the music. "Watch it, douchebag!"

_Douchebag?_ Oh, well. He's really one to talk. How rich of him.

Eric's still clearly engrossed into the fight, even as Jason comes through and tries to hold him back, while Alcide restrains Ben with an arm around his shoulder. Eric's eyes are fixed on Ben, and they look darker and violent. He has a bleeding nose and a cut lip, and he wipes the blood away from his lip on the back of his hand carelessly.

What a terrible evening this night has ended up to be. Violent, and scary.


	19. Friends? Who needs them?

**First off, I want to send a HUGE thanks for all your support. I never dreamed anyone would ever like my writing, and to know I've gotten over so many alerts and over two-hundred reviews- THANK YOU, I certainly wasn't expecting that to ever happen. It has me so flattered, and I love you all so much! It's really encouraging to see, as a person who is constantly scared that she is doing a terrible job with writing! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!**

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_**Chapter Nineteen**_

Ben's hands are up in the air defensively, and it's obvious he doesn't want to fight anymore. Eric tries to ignore all his signs of surrender, and attempts to break himself out of Jason's restraining arms to go at him again. Fortunately, Jason's hold on him is real good and tight. For once, I find myself thankful for my annoying Big Bro.

He's really come along and saved the day.

I cannot believe Eric. He's acting uncharacteristically aggressive and it's a side I haven't seen to him before. It's a side I find myself instantly disliking. With his eyes held onto Ben's fearful and cautious ones, he is mocking him, goading him on with a cruel smirk. Ben shakes Alcide's arm off his shoulder, and Ben's got blood dribbling out of his nose, running everywhere. I watch nervously as Eric lifts the bottom of his shirt up and wipes the blood covering his face onto it grossly.

I'm trembling with rage at him, yet I'm also conflicted and worried that he has hurt himself. I hate him for hurting Ben, and for ruining our harmless fun; Yet at the same time... I'm almost wickedly pleased by the unexpected turn of events.

"Maybe you guy's should take a chill-pill or something, huh?" Debbie says shakily, completely out of nowhere. I hadn't realized she was standing around, but it takes me a moment to belatedly discover she is near Alcide, gripping onto his forearm for dear life. She's terrified he'll get himself involved into the beat-down. Really it's no wonder I haven't noticed her. My emotions are running high, and my hands won't quit shaking.

I despise violence and bloody confrontations. I try to avoid them as much as I can. It doesn't feel good to secretly know you're the source of it.

Once the tension has settled down a bit, the excitement in the bar dies down. People start slowly turning away from the scene and doing their own thing again.

"Dude, are you drunk?" I hear Hoyt say to him with mirth, as Jason manages to shove him back to the table he was sitting at before. "What the hell was that all about?" I can't hear his response to that, since I'm still lingering around with Ben. I see Jason crack up laughing, though, at whatever spiteful things he has said.

Then Eric turns slowly to peer at me from behind his shoulder.

His smirk is still in place. It makes me angry.

He licks the blood off his mouth and smiles broadly at me, his eyes twinkling with laughter, before he lets Jason haul him away to the counter of the bar to get him another drink and hopefully cool him off.

It seems proud, smug to me, a look that says, _See, what I've done for you? Ha-ha, I'm a cave man. I defend my own. I am man; Hear me roar!_

I want to attack him. I want to turn into a crazy psycho animal, and beat onto him. He hurt Mr. Dimples. He hurt my dancing partner, Ben. He hurt practically an innocent stranger who didn't deserve it. I want to push him around a bit, slap him for it. Anything to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

Only I can't. I don't. And besides, Jason has already whisked him away. I can't scream at him, because no one else can know, or see, or hear it.

I can't risk it, because no doubt Jason is already getting suspicious. I'll get him back for it later. I'm so gonna give him hell for it. No doubts about it.

I bring my attention back to poor Ben apprehensively, who is just standing there while cupping a hand over his nose. His forefinger and thumb are pinching the bride of his nose tightly in a way to staunch the blood, but it doesn't seem to be working for him. He doesn't look as bloody as Eric does, but then he is nursing a seriously bad nose-bleed that keeps running everywhere. Streams of blood seep through his fingers, and I feel pity for him all over again. This was all my fault. I couldn't say I was expecting it to happen, though. _Jesus Christ Eric Northman. Damn son of a bitch. What was he thinking?_

I can see part of Ben's lower face and realize his dimples are back. He's actually smiling at me, despite everything. He shakes silently with laughter, and I roll my eyes at him disdainfully.

Men can be so retarded. Are they even from this planet? Seriously?

I lean in so he can hear me over the music. "Come on," I tell him urgently. "Come up with me to the bar and I'll get a washcloth for you so it'll hopefully soak up all the blood, you poor thing."

I led him up to the bar by gripping onto his elbow tightly with my hand, and we push and squeeze our way through the crowd. When a female bartender goes in to serve me, I yell over the counter for a wet washcloth. She looks at me weirdly in a way that tells me she's wondering whether I'm crazy, but then I gesture to Ben and instantly she nods and seems to understand my reasons into asking. When she hands me one that has been wrung out drip-dry, I escort him over to an empty table and get him seated into a chair. I know I'm being bossy, but I feel a certain responsibility for him now. I find him still smiling at me when he removes his hand from his face for me to start holding the rag in front of his nose, and it displeases me to no end.

"Why're you smiling?" I ask in outrage. "What's so funny about getting beaten-up? Jesus!" If that was me, and some random girl came over and bitch-slapped me, I would sure be crying my heart-out mostly out of plain shock.

"You know the party hasn't truly begun until there's bloodshed," he informs me, and I tsk my tongue at him in disapproval. "Who was that guy, anyway?"

"That guy was nobody important." Even as I say it, I know it's a lie. He's probably nobody important to other people. But to me, well, much as I hate to admit it, he is everything. Everything I've always wanted, and wished for. "I'm so sorry he did that to you," I tell him sadly, looking him straight in the eyes to make him sure that I mean it.

By the way he looks at me, I can tell he doesn't totally believe me. "Oh, come on. No guy just randomly beats up another for dancing with a girl. It seems to me that it's something more than that. He isn't your brother, is he?"

I very nearly laugh out loud at that. "No, he _definitely_ isn't my brother." _How wrong on so many levels would that be. I fantasize about him constantly. I maybe get-off on his reactions to me._

"'Cause if he was your brother, I could certainly understand why he went all ape-shit on me." He seems to be thinking hard, shifting through all the possibilities on what Eric is to me in his head. I really wish he wouldn't bother. I wish he would just give it up already. Then he says, uncertainly, "He your boyfriend, then?"

"No," I say hesitantly. "I don't have a boyfriend."

He seems real relieved by me saying that. I see the corners of his mouth lift. "Then am I being too crazy in still saying I want your number, and for you to have mine, so we could maybe have a chat sometime?"

A painfully happy smile pulls at my lips. I feel as though I'm beaming like a total idiot. "Nope, you definitely wouldn't be crazy in still wanting that. I would still very much love to have your number, and to give you mine in return."

"Awesome," he gushes, satisfied. "Once my nose clears up, hopefully I can save your digits in my phone. Maybe you could even do the same?"

"Sorry, but I don't have my phone on my right now. I left it at home because I don't have any pockets on this dress. I didn't want to exactly lose it."

"Well, that's cool. Give me your number then, and I'll text you first thing."

"Sounds like a plan."

It doesn't take too long for his nose to stop bleeding, thank heavens. I am truly relieved it isn't broken. He thanks me profusely for taking care of him like a nice girl, and then I give him my number. He saves it in his phone, and tells me he'll hopefully text me later tonight. Then, much to my surprise and delight, he kisses me chastely goodbye on the cheek, scratching me with the light amount of auburn stubble on his chin, and then he tells me his night is over for the evening. I wave goodbye to him, and suddenly, I feel incredibly happy and as though something wonderful has come out of all the terribleness of this evening.

* * *

I'm sitting perched on the hood of Jason's car, tucking my knees into my chest, waiting for him to come out and take me home. He said he would, and yet he's been in Merlotte's for a little over fifteen minutes since. This is the downside of not having your license yet, I guess. It means you're constantly having to wait on other people to take you home. But then really, you're mostly left waiting for the time that is convenient for them to leave.

Eric must have a sixth-sense about my disappearance, because he is the first one that comes into the busy parking-lot to find me. When he sees me sitting all by my lonesome with my knees tucked up to my chest, and my cheek resting against my forearm, trying to ward off the chill in the air in my dress, he instantly comes striding over to where I am. It is really too bad he can't take a hint. He stands so closely over me that he blocks out the overhead lights coming from the parking-lot. He doesn't try to touch me, though. He must know he can't touch me, or else I'll scream bloody murder at him if he does. He looks as if he has just been sent off on the battle of his life, because he still has dried dark blood all over him.

"What?" I ask flatly, when I can feel him just staring at me. "_What_ do you want?"

"You know what I want, and why I came out here." He sounds a little hurt. "You're pissed at me now, aren't you?"

"Yep," I answer honestly, feeling no need to hide it just for the sake of making _him_ feel better. "I am. I am so, _so_ pissed at you that I feel _so_ close to doing something terrible to you!"

He braces himself against the hood by resting two hands by my legs, and leans in over me. He puts his face near mine, and I feel all muddled, as I lean back to put an appropriate amount of distance between us.

"Don't be mad at me." His voice is quiet, soft. "I get that I did something _completely_ fucked-up back in there. I just lost my head. You've avoided me ever since that night we fought in your bedroom to the point where it's driving me fucking nuts. Seeing you dancing with that douchebag, well... I guess that was the last straw for me tonight. I'm sorry. What_ else_ do you want me to say? What else _can_ I say?"

"Move away from me, and please don't even bother with your sorry excuses," I mutter bitterly, raising my voice a notch. "I don't want to listen to them." I cup my hand over my forehead to really avoid looking at him. "Oh, and _you_ were acting like the douchebag here, _not_ Ben. He seems like a real nice, sweet guy. He didn't deserve what you started with him, Eric."

"He has a fucking name, then?" He sounds real mad, but only for a second's worth. And then his voice shifts into a lighter, gentler tone. "Ben? You know his name already, Stackhouse?"

Eric slides one hand off the hood of Jason's car and places it onto my kneecap. I claw at his wrist to get his hand away from me, digging my fingernails in, but I can feel how much stronger he is than me with how easily he glides his hand further up along my leg despite my attempts to stop him.

"I hate you," I get out through my teeth, shoving into his shoulder roughly. "I really, really hate you for what you did tonight!"

"No, you _don't_. You could never hate me." _Goddamn it, he's right. Jackass._

"You shit-head," I growl, shoving into him again.

I push my palms into the sides of his face, managing to push his head back, but even then he still doesn't care. He doesn't stop the movement of his hand even then, and his fingertips grip tightly into the skin of my left thigh through the frilly under piece of my dress, pinching into my skin, and it infects me with warmth and tingles something dreadful. I'm suddenly conflicted. I feel as if I hate him so badly right now, and yet I know deep down inside that I can't hate him, no matter _what_ he does and _how_ he acts. I want him to stop touching my leg, I want his hands off me, I want him far, _far_ away from me, I want to do some serious damage to him. Yet, at the _same time_, I want his hands on me for always, and for us to take this further.

"You son of a bitch, Eric. I hate your stinking guts, I swear."

Instead of wounding him and him taking me seriously, like I'm hoping it will, I just feel him smile into my cheek and then kiss around my face. He moves my hair away from my forehead, kissing me and telling me quietly into my skin how crazy I make him, his voice all rumbly and soft, but I'm still fighting. I reach down, grab onto his crotch viciously, and he is all the way hard.

"You had _no right_ to do that to him. It was mean of you. Why am I not allowed to start thinking of seeing other guy's, since you're so chicken-shit to even be with me, huh?"

"Don't start this shit again, please," he mumbles into my skin hoarsely.

I don't care if I'm testing him. I push at it again and again. "I _know_ that Ben wouldn't care that my brother is overprotective of me. He wouldn't think twice of asking me out, and letting people know that we're together. I even gave him my number tonight, and you giving him a nose-bleed didn't turn him off me one bit. He wouldn't care if we do stuff in public that my Big Bro might see, and he-"

I've obviously pushed his patience enough. He leans back from me and grabs me underneath my chin, forcing me to look him dead-on in the eyes. He's breathing harshly, loudly- he's furious. "Shut up, all right? You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"I do," I spit out, reaching up and seizing the wrist connected to the hand that is holding me in place by the chin. "You're chicken-shit, and I really _do_ hate you."

"No, you don't. Because what was all that about in there, huh? I _saw_ the way you looked at me. The way you wanted to see what my reaction would be to you dancing with some other guy, and I _gave_ you it. I_ gave_ you a reaction. So,_ don't_ feed me this 'angry' bullshit, Stackhouse. You _know_ it was _exactly_ what you _wanted_ from me."

"Right," I mutter, sort of playful, but mostly serious. "I wanted you to beat up a poor, innocent guy I was dancing with? Do you even _hear_ what you're saying to me? _Where_ is the logic in _that_?"

"You wanted me to." He breathes into my ear and then kisses my earlobe gently.

I shiver, and blow out a long exhale, finding myself needing air. Frustrated as I feel, I can't help melting a little and feeling less mad at him. And, no doubt, that's exactly what he is working for.

"You're just trying to make me forgive you," I say.

"And is it working?" His hand goes even further up my dress, until he reaches my panties. He cups me with his palm. I press my lips tightly together, fighting back a sound, arching my back into him. He is biting me around my jawline, ever so gently, nipping me with his teeth, pulling at my skin.

"You can bet your butt it isn't." He pulls away from me slowly to look at me, removing his hand from underneath my dress. His eyes search mine seriously. I'm silently hoping whatever expression he sees on my face isn't giving me away, and blowing my cover.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, and looks away, just at the right time, when Jason pushes through the door of Merlotte's loudly. The way Jason walks is a little worrying; He staggers a bit, and can't seem to walk in a straight line. The he bursts out laughing like he has heard a joke no one else is included in.

I give him the best reproachful look I can manage. "Jason Corbett Stackhouse, you're drunk!"

"I know, sis. But so are you!"

"How can I possibly be drunk when I haven't even touched any alcohol?"

He makes a gurgled noise, and waves a hand at Eric. Then he cracks up laughing again.

"You alright, man?" Eric asks, with real concern. He steadies Jason by slipping a hand over his shoulder, and putting all of Jason's weight onto himself.

Jason mutters something inaudible in response. His eyes slowly focus on me, and he looks distant and dreamy. "You," he booms at me ceremoniously, waving his arms around again. God, how much has he been drinking? "Sis, come over here, huh? You're missing all the love, eh?"

I hesitate before sliding off the hood of his car onto my feet. He staggers forward a bit, but luckily Eric catches him and holds him into his side. I don't think I've ever seen Jason so wasted before. It's a little freaky.

"God, Jason. How much have you had to drink?" I ask, concerned.

"Don't know, sis," he mumbles, staring down at me with fondness in his eyes, "Fuck, I ain't even care. Lost count. Shit happens." He inhales in the night air so deeply that his nostrils flare. "I mightn't be good at math, but I'm not a dumbass, Sook."

A lump rises in my throat. "Who says you are?" I ask worriedly. "Who said that?"

"I got eyes, sis," he goes on idiotically. "I'm not a fool, as some people might think I am. I know I might only work an easy job with the road crew, but I got eyes in my head. I can _see_ things! I'm not blind! I _can_ see!" He turns his glassy eyes to Eric, and then he looks back over at me. He blinks at me, as if he is surprised to see me. "You're my lil sister, and you must think I'm a _goddamn_ fool!"

"Jason, what're you talking about?"

"Who needs friends, huh?" he says. "Real friend's don't exist." And then he pushes Eric violently away from him.

I think I've almost stopped breathing.


	20. Betrayal

**I want to thank you all for your reviews I have received. They mean the world to me! Surgery went well, despite how scared I was! I'm unable to eat anything at the moment, which sucks. I had to get my tonsil out LOL. So I decided this was a great way to spend my day, writing a new chapter.**

**Hope you won't hate it! Much love xx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

"Look, I know what's going on here," Jason goes on. "I'm not blind. You've been screwing around with my little sister this whole fucking time!"

My heart twists.

No.

And then, he goes on, underneath his breath shakily "I saw you two out here. I saw you two through the fucking window. I saw the way you touched her, and the fight that happened between that dude she was dancing with! I got eyes! I'm not stupid!"

Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes, "Jason, please. I can explain-"

"You don't need to explain anything, all right? How long has this been going on for?"

Reopening my eyes slowly, I look at him as he stands there. A range of emotions cross over his face: Anger, shock. Betrayal is the most dominant. In a sense, I can't exactly blame him. But I know I'm not that same little girl I used to be anymore. I'm older now. I should be able to do whatever I want, whatever I please. I shouldn't have to explain myself to my Big Bro, I'm eighteen.

But then again, I'm not the only person involved in this. There is Jason's closest friend as well.

I can't seem to find my voice. There is no words. Only a horrified, building lump in my throat.

Eric answers for me. "Around two months probably," he says uncertainly. He sounds just as anxious as I feel. He must know this has the potential to go from bad to worse, by the way Jason takes the news. "It isn't like we were deliberately hiding it from behind your back. Your sister wanted to tell you."

No. I didn't want him to have to find out this way.

"So, why didn't she? Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid," Eric continues quietly. I can hear him panting loudly from where he stands. "There, I've said it. I was the one who pulled the strings here. Sookie wanted to tell you, but I told her not to. I was afraid of what you'd think. I was afraid of losing my best friend. I get it. I'm a fucking coward, Jason. But I didn't want to-"

"And did you fuck her? Have you been fucking her?"

I bring my eyes over to Eric. He's looking despondent, frightened. "Twice," he admits slowly. "I've made love to her twice. It wasn't fucking. It was n_ever __just_ fucking to me. Jason, I-"

A commotion of activity breaks through his words, blocking them out. Everyone in Jason's group has started to come out; They watch the three of us curiously. Debbie and Alcide are holding hands.

_"What's going on?"_ I hear Hoyt say.

_"Eric and Sookie."_ Alcide.

_"Oh, that's fucked. Hasn't he heard you should never get with your best friend's little sister? Jason should make him pay for this."_

It happens without warning. Violent. Ugly. Painful. Heart-wrenching.

I watch my brother fling himself at Eric.

And then I watch my first everything- _first crush, first love, first sex_- fall to the ground.

"Jason, stop it!" I scream. Only he doesn't. He isn't listening to me. He doesn't want to listen.

"You fuck around my back with my little sister, huh?" Jason is yelling in his face, "Yet you can't even tell me about it? You fucking pussy!"

Eric just lets my brother have his moment. He does nothing. He lays there on the concrete, accepting everything my drunken brother dishes out at him mercilessly. Every kick to his stomach and ankles, every hit to his face. For every blow my brother gives out of anger and betrayal, Eric takes it. Jason's knuckles are raw and red with blood, while my first everything covers his arms and hands over his face to shield his punches. I can hear both of them breathing hard and crying.

And then, I've well and truly had enough to just stand by.

"Please, Jason, I love him," I cry, and it is the only thing I know that's true.

"What?" Jason turns to look at me, and he looks so unlike himself it's scary. His eyes shine at me with hatred, and tears stream down his temples and he is shaking so fiercely. I know it's just from the alcohol in him, the violent reaction this has all sparked out of him. I know tomorrow will be different. I hope it will be different once he is sober. "You love him, sis? And you_ think_ he fucking loves you?"

_How could you do this_? His eyes scream at me sadly. _My own sister, with my best friend. How could you keep this from me?_

Then he turns back to look down at Eric, and I can see he is nowhere near giving up.

"Get up, Northman," he goads coldly. "Stand the fuck up. Hit me back, you pussy! Just hit me!"_  
_

When Eric pulls his head out of his arms, his eyes are wild and hurt and blood's dripping down his chin. "Jason," he groans weakly, through tears, "I don't want to fight you. You're my best friend, man! I'm not going to fight you back, especially not while _she_ is standing around to see it!"

"Fuck, Sookie," I hear Hoyt say disapprovingly from somewhere behind me. "Look what you've done? This is real fucked up!"

It almost hurts. Tears me apart inside.

"Shut up, Hoyt," I snap.

"She isn't fucking worth it, Jason," he goes on, ignoring me. "It was obvious. Eric isn't worth it, neither. You should never do that to your best friend! Sisters are off-limits!"

Gritting my teeth, I shove Jason away from Eric and get closer to him. I almost want to break down crying. It hurts to know that my own brother has caused him so much pain and bloodshed.

"I hate you, Jason," I say, pushing him with all my might. "I'm not a little girl anymore! I love him!"

"Well, you ain't my sister anymore," Jason yells, almost like a hurt whisper. "Far as I'm concerned, Northman ain't my friend either. You choose him, sis? Then stay the fuck away from me, the pair of you!"

"Fine," I say back defensively without thought. "If you're going to be immature about this Jason, then fine. I choose Eric."

Pitiful thing is, I think I always would.

* * *

**Hope this wasn't terrible? It's so hard to write sometimes. I get so nervous, thank you all! **


	21. Sorry

**Wow, I want to thank you all for your responses on the chapters. Thanks for encouraging me, it made me want to update faster. Writing fanfiction definitely helps for me to ignore the pain I'm going through right now. ;) You're all so sweet and kind! I'm hoping you will enjoy this one, and that it isn't bad!**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-one**_

I sit down near him on the pavement for a while, rubbing along my arms with my hands to warm myself up a bit over the emptiness and shock I feel. I feel completely numb. At the same time, I feel such murderous rage, at everybody. At myself, and what happened. At how I had just stood there for far too long and let my stupid brother beat on him. And yet, I feel such trembling rage at my brother, and at his friend's; At Hoyt, at Alcide and Debbie. Hoyt especially, for what he was saying throughout it all and how he was egging my brother on callously, as if in him seeing me behind my brother's back, Eric had committed such an unforgivable crime.

You'd think Eric had only just admitted to raping me or something, considering Jason's horrendous act of violence towards him.

But all he did was be with me. That's it.

He didn't hurt me. He didn't hurt me either physically or mentally. He just was with me.

And maybe he knew this would happen all along? Maybe he knew this was how badly my brother would have taken the news? I certainly hadn't expected it to turn out like _this_. No, this was beyond what I was thinking. I didn't even know my brother was capable of such a horrible thing, like this. I didn't know he was capable of turning on a guy he has known for however many long years he has, all because he was with me.

He has little cuts on his hands and knuckles. It's all that I can see of how much damage Jason has done, when he keeps his eyes covered with them. He is shaking and I'm not sure if it's because he is scared by what had happened so unexpectedly, or whether he is actually shaking because he is crying so quietly.

When he raises his head slowly out of his hands, I realize it's both.

He's crying. He's a nervous-wreck.

His chin quivers and his eyes are bleak as he brings them over to me cautiously. He's caked with blood everywhere, and I can't tell if it's from Jason or if it's just dried blood from the fight earlier with Ben. Maybe even both. But what does that even matter?

After a while, he gets up without so much as speaking to me. I watch him as he heads towards where his truck is parked. He's all limp and he can't even seem to walk properly. I call out his name nervously, but he doesn't look behind at me. He ignores me. Beating my tears away from my eyes furiously, I get to my feet. I dust the gravel sticking to my butt, then dither uncertainly before deciding to follow him.

He pulls open the door to his truck, and my legs stop functioning. For a second, I start panicking that he is going to get into his truck and drive off without me. He hates me for what happened, this is all my fault, so he's just gonna pick up and leave everything else behind.

Leave the shitty, small town that is Bon Temps and never come back. His friendship with my brother is now broken, all thanks to me, so what good reason does he have to linger here otherwise?

He finally tilts his head to look at me as he holds the door open to his truck. Half of his beaten face is lit up from the overhead lights of Merlotte's parking lot, and I feel lethally furious all over again at all the blood and pain. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the blood, making it all new and wet again.

"You coming with me or what?" he asks quietly.

_And that's all I need to hear..._

I still can't seem to find my voice. I watch him desperately as he climbs in and closes the door behind himself. He starts the engine, and then I'm scared again, thinking he's just gonna pound on the gas real hard with his foot and leave me.

But he doesn't.

The truck sails leisurely near me, and he leans over to push the door open on the passenger's side for me. Without hesitation, I crawl in and close the door gently behind myself. He drives, and we sit in dreadful silence, and I want so badly to break it by telling him how sorry I am, for everything. For what Jason did, and how he hurt him. I'm sorry for what I did tonight, with dancing with Mr. Dimples. Most of all, I want to ask him if he hates me now.

But I can't. All I can seem to do is shake silently with tears, as pathetic as it is.

I shift in the seat slowly to glance at him. I can't even endure looking at his face, because it hurts too much. Instead, I focus on his hands as they grip the steering wheel. I can see them trembling. I can see all the scrapes, all the pain. _Goddamn you, Jason. Bastard. Piece of shit brother of mine. Cruel asshole. _

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, saying it mostly to his knuckles. "I didn't think it would go this way. Now, I know why you were so..." The words get caught in my throat, and I can't even finish what I've begun. I bring my eyes back down to my hands that are folded in my lap, furious and tired with myself.

I don't dare look at him again until the car lurches to a rumbling stop.

He puts his hand on my knee, pressing down gently into my skin. It feels consoling, forgiving. When I look up at him, he's staring past me straight out the window. It's as if he is almost afraid to look at my face. "Well, we're here," he says distantly.

I force myself to glance quickly off into the direction he is staring, out the window. The lit porch of Gran's house comes into view. My heart clenches painfully, because it dawns onto me ruthlessly just what this all means.

"Why'd you bring me back here?" I ask, although I know all too well why he did. "I don't want to be here right now."

I can see Jason's car parked out the front. I don't want to be anywhere near him.

"Please, can't I just..." I trail off nervously, not even sure what I'm about to ask myself.

He slides his hand off my leg and places it back onto the steering wheel. He still can't even bring himself to look at me. His lips press tightly together, his chin moves in a way that tells me he is grinding his teeth together, and then he shakes his head and leans forward to press his battered forehead against the steering wheel. His body starts trembling again, and he makes a few sniffling noises through his nose.

He's crying again. Silently, unnervingly...

"Please," I beg miserably, coming to tears myself. Unlike him, I start crying hard and loudly. I can't even control myself. "Please don't hate me. I'm so sorry about what happened tonight. I'm so sorry about everything. Please, just don't hate me!"

"I don't hate you," he chokes out into the steering wheel.

"God damn Jason. I'm sorry!"

I sit and stare at him, shuddering with sobs, and then he loses it himself and starts crying loudly himself. I want to touch him and comfort him, and make him feel better, yet I don't know if he wants me to, and I'm scared it'll get him angry. But thinking screw it all, I finally gather enough courage to do what my heart wants me to do. I stroke his short hair, crying out apologies his way over and over again, until hopefully it'll sink in that I mean it. He turns and awkwardly I try to get closer to him around the divided seats, until my hands are grabbing onto his face and I put my lips on him. I kiss him, everywhere my mouth can possibly find without it being too much trouble- his cheeks, his blood-streaked chin, the tip of his nose. Eric's eyes are closed, and he takes in a deep shuddering inhale as my lips finally reach his mouth.

"I don't want to be near him," I cry, and I say it over and over. "I couldn't stand it. Please, don't make me have to go inside. Please let me stay with you. Please, oh please."

When he relents, he pulls away from me and shifts the truck back into gear again, wiping his wet eyes.

This time, he takes me to another familiar place. The place I know as his apartment.

When he pulls open the gate, he steps aside to let me in. Then he closes it, and unlocks the door to his apartment. He flicks on a light, and lets me go on in. He starts throwing on various lights to the house, as I head straight into the small living room. It looks far like a home than it had the last time I was in here. He has unpacked his belongings, finally. Half of them, he hasn't found a place for them. Objects are strewn carelessly across the floorboards.

My eyes fly in to his sleeper-sofa, and the bundles of blankets covering it. Instantly, I'm brought to that day before my eighteenth. The day I gave myself to him.

I hear a light click on and Eric moving around in another room. I follow the sounds, until I find him in his bathroom, standing over the small sink in there. He turns on the water, and I watch him apprehensively as he cups water in his hands and splashes it all over his beaten face. I hear him wince loudly, and make a few hissing noises through his teeth. I stare at his arched back as he does it over and over, and as he turns to snatch up a towel I see that he looks even worse without all that blood. I can tell he is going to have a few big bruises and grazes on his face later on.

I cross over to him anxiously as he wipes his face carefully. He looks back at me as he holds the towel over his forehead at where a long scrape is near his right eyebrow. Leaning up on tiptoes, I take either side of his face gently between my hands, turning him this way and that way to get a better, closer look. He lets me without argument.

"Does it hurt a lot?" I ask worriedly, patting my fingertips gently against the deep split in the side of his lip.

Despite everything, a slow smile spreads across his lips as he takes my hand and pulls it away from his injured face. "It does, yeah," he admits to me reluctantly. "Especially when you were touching it like you were just then."

I catch myself smiling up at him ruefully. "Sorry about that."

He flings the towel somewhere past my head, and then he pulls me slowly closer, into him, his arms snaking around my back, and the left side of my face digging into his wrinkled shirt. He kisses my forehead and this feels like forgiveness to me. He doesn't hate me over what happened tonight- with everything. He doesn't hate me despite I was the reason for all of this. And that knowledge is the most glorious feeling in the world.

I curl into him, bringing my arms around his shoulders and resting my cheek into his warm shirt.

He drops his sore mouth down to press a soft kiss into the bridge of my nose.

My heart jumps and palpitates and my blood races.

I bring my head up, far as it will possibly go, to meet his eyes. He smiles softly and pecks the corner of my mouth with his, then my chin, underneath it, the column of my throat. He breathes uneven hot breaths into my skin, and my fingers grip onto the material of his shirt, and finally, his lips are on mine again, and this definitely feels like forgiving and forgetting everything else. A potentially broken long friendship due to the best friend's sister, the beat-down by my brother. We are fine, even if nothing else about this is. No doubts about it.


	22. Together

**Thank you all so much for being lovely and sweet! It astounds me!**

**Hoping you enjoy this one! Hopefully it's a bit more light-hearted than previous chapters with all the fighting going on that Eric was subjected to. He doesn't get hurt again in this one, probably a welcoming thing hehe. Much love to you all xx**

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

We stand around in the bathroom, hugging each other and kissing for what feels like an eternity. And then, slowly, he releases himself from me and I hear his bones crack loudly. He makes a deep noise through his throat, as he stretches his arms in the air. His wrinkled and dirty shirt rides up to his belly-button, and it makes me smile softly to myself. It makes me think of my belly-button, and however many nights ago it was, when he kissed and tongued it, goofily claiming it as his. I almost want to do the same to his belly button, as ridiculous as that sounds.

I almost want to claim his entire body, with my hands and my tongue.

He turns away from me and starts slowly peeling off his shirt, and I feel my tears start anew, as he pulls it off and flings it on the tiles at his feet. _Damn you Jason Corbett Stackhouse,_ I almost want to scream at the top of my lungs. He looks so sore, everywhere.

"Jump in the shower with me," he says quietly, still not looking my way. "I'm fucking aching all over. Your brother is an excellent fighter, that's for sure. I feel like I'm going to be hurting for months." He plucks open the button of his jeans, and my hands start removing my clothes at their own accord. I fling off my heels, but I have a bit of trouble unzipping my dress.

"Can you?" I ask, turning around so that he gets what I mean. He moves up from behind me, and unzips my dress for me gently. "Thanks." I slither out of it, wriggling it off my hips, then unclasp my bra and let my breasts fall free.

I turn, and stare as he steps out of his jeans and underwear, then he climbs into the shower and it starts running loudly. Taking in a deep breath, I slide my panties down and step into the shower too. Without warning, he grabs me by my upper arms and full-on flings me underneath the spraying water and my body is completely and utterly drenched in warmth. I cannot seem to stop laughing, as we stand close together, huddled under the water for warmth. He is completely soaked too from head to toe, and even wet with his hair sticking flat to his scalp, he looks absolutely... desirable.

Our eyes meet, and he moves in closer to me. I feel anxious and nervous all of a sudden. He cups my face gently with his wet hands, and leans down, drawing his lips to mine. His kiss is gentle, and slow, and incredibly wet from the shower-water. With shaky hands and fingers, I glide my hands over his chest, feeling various muscles. Our lips part, and I'm aware of the pair of us breathing heavily. I reach down between his legs, he makes a deep noise as I touch him, and then he starts kissing me again, this time his lips far more insistent. After all the horribleness of the evening, I find this is exactly what I'm needing. His fingers run lightly over my nipples, down my stomach, even further down my slick wet body, until he touches me _right there. _I tilt my head back and give out a groan of my very own, illustrating my delight.

His fingers move inside me, touching me intimately. It takes me instantly back to that time at Merlotte's in the men's restroom, and I laugh against his mouth shakily.

He leans back to look at me questioningly. Whoops, was I laughing too loud just then?

"What's so funny?" he asks, sounding sincerely confused.

"I have no idea what's so funny."

"You want to in here?" he pants roughly, and he doesn't need to expand on what he is asking me. Did I want to? Yes, oh yes! I do!

"Yep," I moan out loud, just in case he still wasn't sure whether I did or not.

I wrap my hands tightly around his neck, as he parts my legs wider. I lean back against the cold wall of the shower to brace myself, and he stares at me with hard concentration, as he grips me by the hips. He eases into me slowly and carefully, and it feels different without him wearing a latex condom. It feels all warm and real. He makes a low grunt, once he is fully inside me, and I grip onto his shoulder-blades as I move myself.

We stare at each other, never breaking eye-contact once, as he starts moving himself. His fingers tighten and pinch into the skin of my hips, holding me in place. He uses his nose to push a few wet strands of hair away from my forehead, and then we are moving, sliding against each other and everything is so wet and loud ragged breathing. I still think sex is strange, despite the fact we've done this twice before. But it's a very, very pleasant strange.

We just try to look at each other, as much as is possible, and the way our bodies join and move together, in sync, as one- and our grunts of pleasure and moans start intermingling and then we're coming undone together. He thrusts his face into the crook of my neck, as our bodies detonate together, and a relaxed exhaustion takes over. I catch myself crying out his name loudly as we both reach our climax, and he pours himself into me. With his hot face buried in my neck we sag together, as the water sprinkles down over us, washing us clean of sweat and everything else of what we've just only done.

It turns out to be one very long shower. Probably the longest one I've ever had.

We just stay there, holding each other tightly underneath the water, the pair of us too bone-tired to even bother moving. I slip my fingers into his hair, gripping the drenched strands gently between the gaps of them.

"We should probably get out of here before all your hot water runs out." Even as I say it, my entire body groans in protest. Hell, I just can't be bothered moving at all.

He moans into my neck warmly.

"Was that a yes?" I laugh.

"I guess so," he breathes, nuzzling his nose into my neck. Then he kisses my earlobe. And although we don't really want to, we force ourselves into action.

* * *

"I wouldn't like to know what your water bill is gonna be once you get it," I admit, as we lay around on his sleeper-sofa. "I think we were in your shower for a little over forty minutes."

"Who cares? I don't."

I smile to myself as his arms tighten over me slightly. I'm resting my ear against his chest, and I think I can almost hear his heart beating. My hair feels funny, glued to my back and shoulders, because it is still damp. But right now, I can hardly even bring myself to care about that.

I sit up slowly so that I can see his face more clearly. "Do you not like wearing condoms?"

His eyes widen at my question in surprise. He presses his lips together as he considers on how to answer that. Then I feel him shrug from underneath me. "I don't know." Maybe he senses my concerns, because he gives me a light squeeze. "I'm sure the water would have washed everything away."

"Well, I'd hope so. I'm sure not ready to get pregnant yet."

"It would have," he assures me gently. He yawns and then I yawn too. Yawns are definitely infectious. "Let's try to get some sleep."

I plop back down, nestling into him. "That's a very good idea." And so, we do.

* * *

"Eric?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why did you really break up with Pam?"

I roll over onto my back to see him more clearly and he props his head on his hand and looks down at me, smiling stiffly. It takes me a few minutes to get over the shock of how terrible and hurt he looks, with his bruised lip and scratched face as the soft glow of early morning light hits his skin. I feel awful all over again at what my stupid brother did to him.

"It was over for a very long time, like I told you. We were more like friends, than anything else."

I feel my brow crease sceptically. "Do you regret it? Do you, you know... miss her sometimes, and wish you hadn't ended things?" I hope he doesn't mind my asking of that.

He seems to ponder on that very seriously for a while. "Not really," he admits, shrugging. "I mean, I miss talking to her. I miss her company sometimes. When you're together with someone for that long, you kind of start to miss being around them after a while. But I don't regret it. I'm glad things are over, because I feel as if we don't have to lie anymore."

"Lie?"

"Well, I started having feelings for someone else. I felt bad about still being in a relationship with somebody, when the feelings for them just isn't... there anymore."

"Debbie told me she's started seeing a new fella. She saw her once out and about, and she said she seemed pretty content with her new guy."

"Well, that's good." He seems pleased for her and accepting, if nothing else. "I'm happy she's moved on." He runs his fingers up along my forearm, making it hard for me to concentrate.

"Who was the other person you had feelings for while you were still with her, though?"

He raises an eyebrow at me, laughs gently, then leans down to say something inaudibly into my skin that I don't quite catch. He looks embarrassed.

"Who? What?"

He laughs again. I love seeing him happy and smiling despite all the bruises and the sore lip. It makes me happy in turn. "Isn't it obvious, Stackhouse?"

"Not really. Not to me."

"It was you, Stackhouse." He lifts up my hand, and presses a kiss into the back of it. My heart races. Then he sighs heavily and his look turns abruptly sombre. "I felt shitty about it. I talked to your brother once, but I didn't say who it really was... for obvious reasons. I felt a lot of guilt over it. I think I actually cried about it once to him." His cheeks flush slightly.

"You felt that bad that you actually cried?" I whisper, concerned.

"I did." He gives me a small, abashed smile. "I actually fucking did. And I didn't actually think that you would ever like me in return. I never anticipated on this happening."

Now I find that extremely hard to believe, considering all the ways I used to react to his presence like a fluttering, self-conscious schoolgirl. "You didn't think I'd like you back?" I laugh weakly. "I thought it was always so transparent in the way that I was around you that I had the hugest crush on you. I used to feel so embarrassed about it, because I didn't think _you_ could ever see _me_ that way."

"I did, though, and I think that is why it made me feel so guilty. I felt like a fucking pervert or something." He smiles to himself wistfully, as though he is remembering something. Then he says slowly with reluctance to admit it, "When I came over that first day and I saw you, I think you were busy helping your Grandmother with something, and I... I thought you were so pretty, with your blonde hair hanging down your back and that yellow sundress you were wearing that day." He looks down at me in a soft and tender way, and I feel my bones soften and my heart melt. "I wondered, Who is this pretty girl? Why is she hanging out at Jason's? And then... he told me you were his little sister! I think you were about fourteen then, and I remember feeling like such a fucking filthy pervert. I was- what? Twenty-two at the time, I think, and I thought a fourteen year old girl was so attractive? It horrified me!"

"It doesn't make you a pervert," I disagree strongly.

"Still, I felt like I was." He passes a hand over his bruised face, wincing slightly. "And, considering Jason's reaction last night... he felt I'm a pervert too."

"He doesn't, and you're not a pervert," I say vehemently. "You know how Jason gets? He's just... annoyingly overprotective of me. It drives me crazy most of the time. I think it's only just because he feels like I'm the only person he has left of his family. When our parent's died, it was a real difficult time for the pair of us." I shake my head at him sadly. "I guess Jason has always felt... responsible for me. When they died, he made it his number one priority to look after me, as a little girl. We helped each other get through it together. Sometimes when I got really upset and was missing them, he would come into my room and we hug and talk for hours, telling each other happy little tales about how things used to be when they were around." I feel an intense surge of love for my brother at the thought of what we used to do, but I'm still furious as hell at him. "I guess he just never got over it. He still sees me as that hurt and lost little girl, who was upset and missing her parent's. It still doesn't excuse why he is like this, though, and I hate what he did to you last night. It hurts my heart that he did that to you."

"Well, you can't exactly blame him, can you?" he mutters lightly under his breath.

"You're not angry by how he beat on you, are you?" I can tell so. It is clear as day to me.

"I'm not," he confesses quietly. "Truth be told, I could never be angry at anything your brother ever does to me."

"Why not? Why aren't you?"

"Because he helped me through a lot of hard shit, Stackhouse. He was there for me when I had no one else to turn to."

"What type of hard shit?"

"Just with my dad." He grimaces. "He got real messed-up when my mother divorced him. He went heavier on the drinking, and when he drinks too much, he... he gets intolerable to be around. I'd call Jason and we'd hang out whenever I needed someone to vent to. This is why, no matter what happens, I'll never hate him, Stackhouse. And as mad as you are now over what he did to me, you can't ever really hate him, much as you think you do. He's your blood." As I listen to him carefully, what he says definitely rings true to me. "It's like with my father. I hate him, I feel I do... over all the shit he has put me through. But really, deep down inside, I can't truly hate him, because he's my old man, you know? He's my blood. He's family; he is all I've got."

"I hate that you're right," I admit slowly. "But I'm still enraged over what he did to you. As well as everybody else; Hoyt, and Alcide. They never intervened. They never did anything to stop my brother from taking it too far."

"And _why_ would they? Wouldn't it seem as if they're picking sides?"

I realize he is so much mature than me. He isn't mad at my brother. He's instantly accepting and forgiving over what happened. I can't say I'm in the same boat, though.

"Why didn't you defend yourself in fighting back?" I ask. It's been haunting me ever since. "Why did you just lay there and let Jason have his way? Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"Because what would fighting back prove?" He mutters blandly. "Would that make me a better man, if I had fought him back? No, I don't think it would have. And besides, you were standing right there. You think I wanted to scare you and frighten you by hurting your brother? There was really no point in fighting."

"But you fought Ben?"

"Well, I guess I'm a pacifist when it comes to your brother."

"Are you afraid?" I breathe anxiously.

He blinks at me. "Of what?"

"Of seeing them again when you have to go back to work." I think I am. I think I'm scared Jason might do something again, and judging by the way all the boy's just stood back callously and let it all happen... Well, what if they do it again? What if Jason takes it too far and really ends up hurting him? "D'you think it'll be awkward having to go back to work with Jason there?" I feel tears start to gather in my eyes again.

"It may be awkward," he says, and he bends down to kiss me quickly on the lips. He shifts back to peer down at me with sincerity in his eyes. "But I'm honestly not scared. I'm a Northman; I managed to survive my drunken, crazy father as a kid. I'm not afraid of anything."

I snort derisively.

"We Northman's are natural-born survivors," he says proudly in a funny voice, and it makes me laugh. He laughs too, and grins down at me. And for some reason, I start to believe him. _He is a Northman, a declared survivor. Whatever that means. _After that, we fall silent for a bit, lying around huddled up on his sleeper-sofa, wrapped up snugly in the blankets. It's nice and warm lying with him. His skin is so warm. And then, he says quietly to get my attention, "Hey Stackhouse?"

"Yeah, Northman?"

He bites down on the side of his lip anxiously and holds out his hands. I place mine in his, intertwining our fingers together. He looks me over gravely. I can hear my heart beating to a nervous, frantic rhythm. Why do I feel as though something bad is about to happen?

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yep?" My voice is shy and scared.

"I know it sort of already happened, but... I want to ask it anyway. I want to make it right. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, oh my God." I crack up laughing, overwhelmed with relief. I was starting to think he was just about to kick me out of his apartment and make me go home or something. "But you kind of, you know... I thought I already was?"

I feel emotional and breathless, filled with elation. Because it seems kind of more real and official this way, him asking me this. We are really together, he is my boyfriend now, and hopefully it'll be for the real world to see.

He grins at me in a relieved and relaxed way of his own at my answer.

**Hope you enjoyed this one? A bit of light-heartedness and no one hurt in this one. And yes, they had unprotected sex-time in the shower. Naughty and risky (especially as Eric is 26, surely he should be aware of the consequences?!). Thank you all so much, I love how nice you all are and supportive. It really makes me feel more confident about updating and writing, I'm very insecure when it comes to it, as everyone probably is, so thank you! xx**


	23. Worth It

**Thank you all for being amazing. Hoping you enjoy this one haha!**

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Three_**

"Sookie, is that you?" Gran calls enthusiastically. "Is that Eric's truck I see in the drive-way?"

Eric looks suddenly panicked. He looks hilariously as if he is about to bolt for his life. "Shit," he whispers under his breath nervously. "I better go, before she sees how messed-up my face is..."

"No, don't be silly," I beg. I grab him by the hand tightly, pulling him into the hallway. "Just come inside!"

"Come inside here," Gran says, with urgency. "Come here, the pair of you." Uh-oh. She's using her no-nonsense voice, which means we better. "I want to see you both, now."

Eric's entire body is screaming against it. "Stackhouse," he says quietly. He sounds scared, which is just odd. I hardly believe my Gran will get out her shotgun anytime soon and use it on Eric; She loves Eric, and always has.

"Just come on," I insist strongly, slipping my hand through his.

Gran slips out into the hallway to meet us. She looks very tired and stressed. Poor Gran; I think it's because I forgot to tell her I stayed at Eric's last night. I didn't come home last night, for obvious reasons. She crosses her hands over her chest and fixes a daunting look on me. "Sookie, where on earth have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gran. I stayed over at Eric's last night."

"Eric's?" she repeats, her voice high. Then she notices that we're holding hands. She looks as if she has a whole million things she wants to say on it, but instead, she forces a gentle smile on her face. She clasps a hand over her chest, and relaxes. "Well, I'm just pleased you are alright. Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear? I didn't know what was happening. You never came home with Jason, so I thought that perhaps something terrible might have happened." Her eyes dart to Eric's face, and she sighs heavily. Her expression turns tragic and sad for him. "Well, by the looks of it something already has." She turns slowly and says to us past her shoulder, in her no-nonsense voice again, "I want both of you in the living room this instance."

Oh... this is beyond nerve-wracking. I can't seem to figure Gran out, which is annoying. But I know she wouldn't be truly mad that Eric and I are together. I look at Eric nervously as Gran tootles off into the living room, expecting us to follow. He looks at me with an expression that seems to say, _Well, go ahead. Let's do this._

He slides his hand out of mine and follows in after Gran hesitantly. I hear her cry out in shock at him, and her loud murmurs of worry. "Look at your face!" she says, and once I get the courage to walk in after them, I find her standing with his face in her frail hands. "You look terrible. Did you get into a fight last night?"

"I did." Eric's voice is a deep reluctant and nervous croak. Eric watches my face as Gran mothers him, patting him gently on the cheek. Luckily he doesn't look as bad as he did last night. There's a lot of bruises, but some have already started to heal just fine. "That tickles, Mrs. Stackhouse," he says with a short laugh.

"Who did this to you?" she asks, scared, and she runs her fingertips underneath his unshaven chin. "It looks recent. When did this happen?"

"Last night, Mrs. Stackhouse."

"Did you get the boy back just as hard?" I have to try my mighty hardest not to laugh over Gran asking him that.

"I didn't. I'm not much of a fighter, though."

"Yes," I say sadly, "Eric took it like a champ."

Gran is puzzled. "You did not fight back?"

"It's more complicated than that," Eric says firmly, his eyes still on me. "Your Granddaughter is very good at beating up men. I've never hurt so badly in my entire life."

Gran turns to look at me, horrified. She obviously can't tell Eric's joking.

"Gran, it _wasn't_ me. Don't look at me like that. You know I could never hurt anybody."

She looks pleased as pie by that. "Well, I certainly hope not."

Eric smiles ruefully. "I'm joking, Mrs. Stackhouse," Eric clarifies to ease her mind. "Your Granddaughter is a darling. She couldn't hurt a fly."

"Good. I've raised my Granddaughter well then." A bit on the reluctant side, she lets Eric's face go and sits in her armchair. She looks us over, telling us sternly to do the same. So we do. Gran can be a very powerful woman when she wants to be, despite her age. When Gran wants something to be done, she gets it. Everybody listens to her. "Sit, you two," she commands, pointing to the sofa. Hesitantly, we both fall down onto the old couch together. Eric is careful to keep a respectable distance; He keeps his hands to himself, resting on his knees. He still has sore scraped knuckles. "Start explaining," she says to me softly. "Why didn't you come home with your brother last night after Merlotte's?"

"I just didn't want to," I tell her bitterly. "I couldn't, Gran."

"And why not? Are you and your brother fighting?"

"Kind of. Yeah. I just can't stand being around Jason right now."

"Why not?" she asks gently, with concern. "What's he gone and done now?"

"Just the usual, Gran. He's just being his usual pain-in-the-ass self."

"Last night when he came home he frightened me." She laughs nervously to herself. "He looked deeply upset. He also looked shit-face and was drunk as a skunk. Something bad happened, didn't it?" She asks me this in a knowing voice. She must be a mind-reader or something; Just attuned to other people's feelings and moods. "What did that foolish boy do? I know he can do some silly things when he is drunk. He doesn't tend to think sometimes." Well, that's definitely Jason, all right. He is never much of a thinker. He jumps into things quickly, especially with some drink in him, without thinking.

"Jason was a big bully last night, Gran. I don't think I like him very much right now."

"Tell me, put my mind at rest," she pleads anxiously. "What did he do?"

I peer over at Eric, and Gran does too. Then I think she gets it.

"Oh, he didn't!" She exclaims loudly, hitting her thigh with her hand. "Did he do that to you, Eric? You tell me now, boy!"

It is obvious Eric doesn't want to tell her. Even though Jason did it to him, he's still loyal to the end.

"He might of," Eric says quietly, hesitantly. "But he had good reason to."

"And what reason would that be?"

Eric shoots a pointed look in my direction. He looks awfully uncomfortable. A look seems to be enough for Gran.

"You are with my Sookie now?" She doesn't sound angry, thank goodness. She sounds completely accepting. _If only Jason was like that..._

"Yes, I am." Eric laughs nervously. His eyes turn to me apprehensively. "I love her."

My heart soars with quiet happiness. Gran looks pretty happy herself.

"Well, that is lovely," she says softly, and she means it."I am very glad to hear that. Sookie has liked you for a very, very long time, dear."

I feel my mouth gaping in surprise. She's always known I've had a bit of a thing for him? Gee, I must have been so obvious then. I've always tried to keep it from her.

"Jason isn't very happy about it, though, is he?"

"No," I tell her sadly. "He beat on Eric last night because of it."

"Yes, I thought as much." It's so great that she is being so nice about it. She understands how Jason can get. "That boy needs a big hiding to get some sense stuck into him. He ought to be happy for his little sister, and see the good in all of this." She brings her eyes over to Eric again warmly, sympathetically. "You are a very good friend to Jason. I can't see why he would get into such a huff about it, surely."

"A good friend?" Eric looks very doubtful. "Obviously not."

"Jason will come around," she assures the pair of us gravely. "Just do your own things and try to ignore what he says or does, best as you possibly can. Just be happy, and once he sees that, he'll come around surely."

"I hope so," Eric says, standing to his feet awkwardly. "Well, I better be off." He peers down at me, and it's obvious he doesn't know whether he is allowed to kiss me goodbye in front of Gran or not. Instead, he brings his hand down to my cheek, smiling slightly. "I'll be in touch soon. Sorry about all this."

I smile up at him. "See ya, Eric."

"Bye." He waves to Gran uncertainly, and then he slowly leaves out the house. He throws a quick wink behind his right shoulder at me, one that Gran doesn't see, and I wiggle and squirm about.

Gran watches me carefully from where she sits.

I feel suddenly in a glum mood as I hear his truck pull out of the driveway. Then it quickly evaporates when she leans forward in her armchair, and says softly, "That boy will come around, I'll make sure of it."

"I know you will, Gran."

"There won't be anymore fighting from him, neither."

"Good," I mutter, relieved. "Where is Jason, anyway?"

"He went out early this morning. I think he went along to visit your parent's graves. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind to think about."

"Yeah, probably."

"You love him?" she asks, in a very emotional voice.

Oh, boy. Now that's a very hard question. "Yep, I think I do, Gran." It's hard to explain, really. I've never been in love with a guy before. I'm not sure if I am. All I know is that I think about Eric a lot. I care for him. I really, really care for him. If that's love, then I guess I do. "I've always liked him, and somehow you already know that, Gran..." I laugh at her nervously.

"Oh, yes. I have." She smiles at me. "Sometimes it's obvious, and you're as obvious as a bull waddling around in a china shop, trying to go about it quietly and failing and shattering her disguise."

"I just wish Jason wasn't in such a foul mood over it."

"Your brother just cares about you, pet. But as I said, he'll come around. He'll have to eventually. He isn't King. He doesn't rule the world."

"Yeah, well. Sometimes I think he believes he does."

"Yes, me too. He is a very stubborn boy."

"Tell me about it," I grumble. And she knows I don't mean that literally.

She laughs shakily. Then she asks, startling me, "Are you two having sex?"

_Oh, gee. I can feel the sex-talk coming on._ "We are." It's hard to tell her without squirming around in embarrassment. Plus, it's real hard to look her directly in the eye and admit to it.

Luckily she looks just an uncomfortable as I feel on the topic. "You just let me know if you have any questions..."

"Oh, Gran! Please, no!"

"I'm just saying, pet. I know you are a smart girl. You have fun, but make sure you keep it safe."

"Yes, Gran. Of course, I will! Please, let's not talk about this!"

_Argh, it's embarrassing!_

"You don't want to get knocked up anytime soon... You've still got a few years into you yet..."

"Yes, Gran! I know!"

"Good girl. I know you would."

"Okay, Gran. All right." I feel a sudden intense urge to flee. This is so uncomfortable and awkward. "I'm gonna head upstairs to my room!"

"All right, dear. You make sure he uses condoms now!"

"Yes, Gran," I scream at her in disgust. I race up to my room, reeling with nerves.

_You make sure he uses condoms now..._

_The water will wash it away..._

I try to distract myself by doing some spring-cleaning in my room. It doesn't stop me from worrying one bit. I'm not on birth control pills, and Eric and I never exactly used protection in the shower last night. God, imagine that; Imagine if I did get knocked up at eighteen. Jason would really kill Eric, then. I have no real intentions of being a mother anytime soon. Gran's right; My life has only really just begun. Once school is officially over, I've got to find a job for myself. I still have to do all these things. Being a mother isn't really included in all of that. It doesn't really fit in. Now I'm panicking, and I can't seem to quit doing it. Sex with Eric really is amazing. It's really above and beyond all expectations. I enjoy his hands, his body, his... cock. His grunt and groans of pleasure. The feeling of his skin on mine. His _kisses_, especially. His eyes. His strong, rough hands. His long fingers. _Everything. But why oh why couldn't we have used protection in the shower last night?_

I've come to the unsettling conclusion that I have to tell Eric I'm not on birth control. We'll just have to be safer next time, and Heaven knows I intend to have more sex with him very soon. I think that's the most magical part of starting to see someone, and dating them; You get to learn about bodies, and how great it can feel when you use each other's bodies for pleasure. But I just_ cannot_ get pregnant with my first-ever boyfriend. I just can't. But then how do you tell somebody you're not on birth control pills, and that condoms are a must? Awkward, is all I can think. It is bound to be one awkward conversation. Then again, don't they say it's always _better to be safe than sorry_? I think I'll wait until we're right in the moment to announce it, so it won't feel as silly. No doubt we will be sleeping together again sometime soon.

How ridiculous of me. Here I am, thinking about _all this_, when I've got more important and worrying things to think about.

For instance, like how we are going to survive being in the same room as Jason.

* * *

It's Saturday and I've managed to survive Jason.

He doesn't talk to me around the house, and he doesn't even try. That's perfectly fine though, because I don't even so much as make the attempt to speak to him. We're ignoring each other and pretending we are invisible to each other. It really frustrates Gran, she keeps trying to get us to sort out our differences, but I guess siblings can be as stubborn as each other.

Tonight Eric and I are heading out to Merlotte's. I know Jason and his friend's will be there, and it makes me feel queasy with dread. I really hope something terrible doesn't happen tonight. I hope my Big Bro doesn't try to start something. Eric is driving me in his truck, and we are sitting in absolute silence. It isn't an awkward silence at least. This is the first time we've been out in public since he talked to my Grandmother that morning. This is also the first time we've had to possibly face seeing my brother while we are out.

Eric avoided coming to the house all week.

I wonder if he feels just as anxious as I do about what's impending, but when I glance over at him, his expression doesn't give too much away. He just looks merely relaxed and distracted with driving. He must sense me staring at him like a fool or something, because he grins to himself and can't seem able to keep a straight face. Then he throws a tentative look over at me from where he is sitting.

He puts his hand on top of mine, much to my surprise. There's a long pause while he strokes my hand with his fingertips. "Everything alright over there, Stackhouse?"

"Yep, pretty much. Everything is just hunky-dory. Thanks for asking."

He throws a quick look at me again and raises his eyebrows. "If you say so..." His voice is soft, quiet. "You're looking pretty tense, though?"

"Am I?" I let my voice sound surprised and innocent.

"You are."

"Well, I'm fine."

"There's something I actually needed to talk to you about..." He trails off uncertainly.

"Yes?" I say, impatient.

"About last weekend in the shower..." He pauses again.

"I'm all ears."

"When we... you know..." - he gestures towards me, making a circular motion with his hand- "...Not that I regret it, because I don't. I really, _really_ liked it-" Here, he gives me a wolfish smile -"... But I'm sorry. I should have been more... smarter. More careful."

_Well, this solves the birth-control convo I've been dreading having with him._

"Well, I totally agree. Protection next time."

"Exactly." He sounds relieved and he runs his fingers over my knuckles. "Protection_ for all times._" He gives out a nervous, short laugh. "Not that I don't think you would make a wonderful mother. I don't mean it like that. I just..." He sighs loudly, seemingly lost for words. "You know, I'm kind of... stupid at saying shit like this. I hope you don't take that as an insult. I know you would make a fucking excellent mother... I'm just... not _ready_ to be a father, you know?"

"I get it." I definitely do. "And I'm certainly not ready to be a mother."

"Yeah, of course not. I get that."

"So, that's all you want to say? Just to wear condoms next time? Nothing else?"

I feel a flare of relief that he has brought this conversation up, and unable to control it, I start laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asks nervously.

"Gee, I'm sorry." I take in a deep breath, trying to contain myself. "It's just that I'm so happy you're saying this. I've thought the exact same thing."

"The exact same thing?"

"Yeah, that we should... use a condom. Keep it safe."

"Good." He nods. "OK, great. Well, that was easier to talk about than I thought it would be..." He looks back over at me, his face softening.

"How is work going for you?" I ask, feeling a dire need for a topic change.

"Yeah, I've seen Jason and the boy's around." He stares ahead at the road, and I'm pretty sure he looks kind of sad. "Alcide is the only one who bothers to talk to me."

I make an angry noise.

"It's fine, though," he assures me quickly. He pats me on the knee as if to emphasise that. "It's just going to take some... time to get used to. It's like being back at school almost. Like when you're excluded as a kid, you know? It's kind of like that. But I don't care. I'm cool with it."

"Jason's so immature, I'm sorry. We don't talk anymore. We're just ignoring each other. Honestly, I didn't think I was even worth all this. I didn't think it would have turned out this way, with you."

He cocks his head at me. He seems confused.

"What do you mean, you didn't think you were worth all this?"

"Just all this drama bullcrap. I didn't think you'd want to be with me, since it has basically put a strain on your friendship with my brother." _There, I've finally said it, goddamn it_.

He considers this, then says- suddenly, very sincerely- "But you're worth everything." He takes in a deep breath and shrugs to himself. "Sure, it's sad losing a close long-time friend because of this, but so what? It's just a reflection of his own fucking immaturity."

I certainly wasn't expecting him to view it like that.

He grins to himself suddenly. "Stackhouse, I don't jump into anything that has bad consequences that risk me losing anything, unless I am _one-hundred-percent_ certain on it. And you were right all along; I should have manned up and just said outright to Jason directly that I wanted you. I shouldn't have kept you as my secret, and as if I felt ashamed of you or of us being seen together. It might have prevented all of this and made it easier, who knows?" He sighs heavily and drags his thumbnail around my kneecap. I have to fight back a delighted shudder. "But you're worth _every single_ _fucking thing_. So _don't_ ever forget that."

**Hope you enjoyed this one? Feel free to let me know. Love you amazing peeps!**


	24. Flying off the Handle

**Thanks so much for being so sweet! Hoping you enjoy this one, despite all the petty drama! Love you guy's!**

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty Four_**

I love Merlotte's and I realize I wouldn't mind applying for a job here sometime. It is really time I start thinking about the future, after all.

I've noticed Eric always walks too fast and I get a little out of breath when we walk together. But tonight he is being more considerate, at least; He makes an effort to match my slower pace, and he puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk towards the entrance of the bar. It certainly eases my nerves some. I really wish he would dance with me, though. I wonder if he feels self-conscious about dancing in front of other people, because before, he never would dance with me. Then again, he probably felt he couldn't since my Big Bro was standing around in the room. I notice he tenses and looks on guard and cautious, as we push through the door into Merlotte's. He didn't look so nervous in the car, he looked quite the contrary, but now it's sadly obvious he is feeling some of the dread I am at possibly seeing my older brother. He slips his arm off my shoulder and holds my hand instead. It's fairly crowded in Merlotte's tonight. Soon as we get in, old music is blaring from the Jukebox, Jace Everett is singing on how he wants to do Bad Things to me, and there is a huge crowd of people up at the bar waiting on ordering drinks.

I take the opportunity to look at Eric as he walks in front of me, clinging onto my hand for dear life so he doesn't lose me in the mass of people tonight. He's looking great tonight. Then again, since when he has ever not looked great in my books? He is wearing a denim button-up shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and great figure, and black jeans and sneakers. The collar of his shirt is loose and unbuttoned enough that I can see the muscles of his chest and neck, and it makes him appear all the more edible to me. The fact he is holding my hand relieves me and pleases me to no end. I really like that now he doesn't care whether he shows we are together or not. He isn't afraid to hold my hand or look at me in a certain way. It's just great to be out in the open. No more secrets or pretending.

Eric leans back and says loudly in my ear over the guitar riff of Bad Things, "Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"I'm going to get a beer."

"Okay. I'll just wait right here."

He goes up to the bar, and I wait for him patiently to get his drink. I clasp my hands out in front of me and watch the people dancing around on the floor to the music. There is a lot of old-folks in here tonight. I spot Alcide and Debbie dancing, much to my surprise. I never counted Alcide as a big dancer, and it seems I'm right judging by the fact he is hardly moving while Debbie looks lost in the music. She is swinging her hips around and tossing her hair wildly to the music, while Alcide just stands awkwardly with her in his arms, hardly moving at all. He sees me watching and gives me a little nod with his head, then looks behind my shoulder to see Eric standing around at the bar waiting for his beer. He looks real pleased to see Eric fortunately, and he visibly relaxes enough to move on the dance floor a bit more with Debbie. At least Eric has a good friend in Alcide; Alcide doesn't seem to care that we are together, while it's obvious Hoyt is just going along with whatever Jason wants.

Eric finally returns to me with a beer in his hand, and then we go over to say hi to Alcide and Debbie. Debbie hugs me in a very enthusiastic way, telling me it's _so wonderful_ to see me, although we aren't exactly what you would call great friends. We hardly know each other, but I'm guessing she needs all the girl support she can find.

I don't really want to know, but I ask Alcide anyway. "Is my brother here?"

"Yeah, he is. Over at the pool table with Hoyt."

It hardly surprises me a single bit that my brother is at the pool table. _When is he not ever at the pool table?_ I look at him through the people standing around, although I know I really shouldn't even bother with it. I find he is already looking over at us, and his tanned face cracks into anger. He shoves into Hoyt's shoulder to get his attention, and now they're both looking over. They both mutter things to each other; Things that I know aren't very nice. Hoyt is shaking his head in a particularly disapproving way, but oh well. Talk about being immature. Eric was right. It is like being at school again. These boy's are old enough to know better than to hold a silly, little grudge. I bring my eyes back to Eric, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, despite how sick with nerves it makes me. They better _really not_ start something.

"You want to dance?" I ask him loudly through the music hopefully. 'Bad Things' has ended, and now Billy Idol is singing about White Wedding's around us.

Eric looks as if dancing is the very last thing he wants to do, but then he squeezes through the crowd to put his beer down and comes back to me. He looks very nervous as he slides his arms around my waist, holding me into him. It's so obvious he doesn't like dancing. It makes me want to laugh. He looks past my shoulder quickly, then makes a cringe-worthy face as he looks down at me again. I fail and end up laughing at him. "Your brother's watching me like a hawk, Stackhouse," he says to me. "I think he is getting ready to come over here for another brawl."

"Don't even joke about that, please!"

After a while, Eric grows slowly more comfortable with dancing. We sway a bit, and he really isn't all that bad of a dancer. I don't understand why he is so nervous about it the way he is. We grin at each other like idiot's.

He leans down to put his mouth over my ear. "This song and the lyrics," I hear him say to me, and he shudders against me. "Pretty fucking creepy, Stackhouse. Pretty fitting, too."

I take the moment to really listen to the words Billy Idol is singing, and realize he is totally right. It is rather creepy. _Hey little sister, who's the only one? Hey little sister, who's your superman? Hey little sister, who's the one you want? Hey little sister, shotgun!_

"You're so right," I tell him with a nervous giggle. "And you_ are_ my Superman. When it comes to helping me out with my Math homework, anyway. That's so weird!"

He purses his lips and tries not to smile in amusement.

"I made a pretty bad tutor," he says grudgingly after a bit. "Let's not kid ourselves here."

"That's very true. You _are_ a very bad tutor."

He shrugs and then laughs. "Well, it's not my fault you weren't paying attention."

"Yeah, it kind of is. But I get it. You can't help it that I was perving on you. It's really your parent's fault for spreading across such handsome genes to their son, you can't help it."

"Thanks." He gives me a playful look of disgust. "Now I have an image in my head of my parent's going at it in the bedroom. Thanks a lot, Stackhouse." I laugh.

As the song finishes, Debbie suggests a switch.

Alcide doesn't really want to dance anymore, but poor guy is kind of forced into it. We switch, and then Alcide holds me awkwardly. It's even all the more awkward having to dance with him, because he just doesn't know what to do with himself, poor thing.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Sookie?" he asks me, being real careful not to look me directly in the eyes.

"Sure, I am. Well, as much as I can." I lean up on my tiptoes to speak to him clearly over the music. "Thanks for being there for Eric. I'm real glad you're not immature like Hoyt and Jason are."

"Don't bother with thanking me." He gives me a brief, warm smile that still seems nervous. His soft brown eyes keep flying around the room; He is so restless. "It's dumb, what your brother and Hoyt are doing. I'm not getting involved."

"Well, thanks anyway for not," I tell him sincerely, feeling very relieved and emotional. "You're a good friend." I look him over carefully; He really needs a good shave. He's so hairy. He has a weird moustache and beard combo going on. "You need to invest in a razor sometime," I inform him light-heartedly.

He laughs and looks embarrassed. "Debbie likes me this way. She likes kissing me like this." He shakes his head. "Fuck knows why. It must be a crazy woman thing..."

"Hey!" I slap him gently on the shoulder. "We're not all crazy, Alcide!"

He snorts at me. Then unexpectedly frowns. "Good to see you and Eric anyway," he croaks out in his deep voice. "I'm glad you two are just getting on with it and not paying any attention to your brother. He's a real shit-head at work, though."

"What do you mean?"

"He just is." He looks past my shoulder, and I know exactly who he is looking at_. My shit-head brother. _"Like I said, I'm trying real hard not to get involved. It's getting a bit hard not to, though."

"What's Jason being doing?" I ask worriedly.

"Your brother has just been spreading shit around to the other boy's at work. Shit about Eric."

Oh, boy. I don't like the sound of that. "Really? What's he been saying?"

He hesitates then bends down to speak softly in my ear. His facial hair is all scratchy and gross against my skin. "Just about how Eric's a sister-fucker, and that they all better lock their sisters inside before he spoils 'em too." I gasp loudly in outrage, and he leans back to give me an apologetic smile. "Eric don't let it get to him much, and I don't, neither. I got a sister, a few years older than you. Her name is Janice, and I know Eric wouldn't fuck around with. He ain't a sister-fucker. I know he's real crazy about you. It's just unfortunate that you got to be Jason's sister."

I nod, tightening my hold on Alcide's shoulders incidentally, because I'm so pissed. He grimaces a bit in pain.

"Don't worry," he assures me gently, sending an awkward pat to my back. "I've kept a close eye on the boy's. I'm not gonna let anything happen to Eric. While I swear not to get involved, I'm secretly making sure they all keep in line."

"Thanks, Alcide."

"Shovels and brother's ain't a good mix, either." He gives me a rueful, sad smile. "I get scared your brother is gonna whack him across the head or something. And Eric, well... he just don't care what your brother does. It won't change Jason in his eyes. He ought to know when to be careful, though. All that gossip that is going around in the work-yard... Eric better be careful he don't get killed."

"You'll keep an eye on things, though?"

"Of course, as much as I can try to. Your boy is just so fucking nonchalant, though, Sookie. He doesn't care what anybody says. He's constantly trying to talk to Jason as if nothing's ever happened, like it's all in the past... but you know how Jason is. I don't think he has a forgiving bone in his body."

"Well, Jason has nothing to forgive anybody for. This is _my_ life. He should get over himself."

"Amen," Alcide laughs. "I keep telling Eric that he ought to think about finding a job elsewhere. Somewhere safer, away from Jason. But he doesn't listen."

"Well, _why_ should he have to when it's my brother being a pain? If Jason doesn't like being around him, then _he_ should think about finding a new job for himself."

"Yeah, but you know Jason would never think of doing that. Not while Hoyt's working there too, anyway."

"Jason and Hoyt can_ both_ go to hell, for all I care."

Alcide gives me an odd look of warning, one that says, _Be quiet_, and it takes me a moment too long to understand why. Alcide releases me, and looks at something past my shoulder, and then I hear it.

"You fucking her too, Herveaux? It ain't cool, man. Besides, you know how we feel about sister-fuckers."

Alcide's jaw clenches, but he restrains himself well. "Fortenberry," he greets stiffly with a nod.

My entire body starts trembling because I'm so mad. My teeth clench together painfully. I'm about to fly off the handle, I can feel it.

I turn to look at Hoyt with narrowed eyes. He looks at me grimly.

"Your poor brother has gone out of his mind, Sook. How could you do that to your own damn brother? That's cold."

His comment is so far from it, so ridiculous, that an involuntary, bitter giggle escapes from my mouth. _How could I do this to Jason? Please, give me a break!_

"You think this is funny, Sook?" He splutters, eyeing me in dismay. "He's your brother. It's killing him to see you with him."

"My _brother_?" My face falls and darkens dangerously. Why am I bothering to stand around, listening to his bullshit? "Please don't even start, Hoyt. My _own_ brother disowned one of his best friend's and is being so immature and self-absorbed about it that he can't even _begin_ to accept and appreciate that his _own_ sister is happy."

"Be nice, Sook. If you're gonna go prancing around with Northman like a slut, then why don't you just go do it somewhere else where Jason doesn't have to see it?"

"Gee, Hoyt. You are _so far_ up his ass!"

Losing it well and truly, before I am able to help myself, I slap Hoyt. I slap him hard across the face, and it's so loud that there is a big noise as my palm connects with his cheek. His mouth falls open in shock as his cheek reddens from the impact. And then his eyes slowly start to water. His mouth twists as he lays a hand against his cheek, and then his eyes frost over and defensive anger slowly seeps its way up to the surface.

"You don't need to hit me!"

"Just _fuck off_, Hoyt," I hiss at him acidly. "And keep_ out_ of my business!"

Since I'm already pissed off and being crazy, my anger increases as I see Jason standing behind him. He blinks at me, shocked by my outburst. I could have done even more damage on Jason if Hoyt hadn't been in the way of him.

"And _you_, Jason Stackhouse, grow _the fuck_ up already! This has absolutely_ nothing_ to do with you! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time on the pair of you!" Adrenaline and rage coursing through my body, I make a desperate gesture to Eric with my fingers, telling him I want to leave, from where he stands around near Debbie, looking nervous.

Eric looks grim as he walks over to me, taking my hand, and then he steps closer to where Hoyt and Jason are standing around. Hoyt breaks into tears and puts his hands up in the air, gesturing that he doesn't want to fight. _Chicken-shit._ I hear Eric's low and threatening voice as he gets into Hoyt's face:

"... don't call her slut, and by the way, this isn't sister-fucking. I _love_ her."

**Hope you enjoyed this one, and this Sookie and Eric? Thanks so much guys for being so lovely! Just a question: Do you want Sookie and Eric to live together/Sookie potentially having a pregnancy scare, etc?**


	25. Looking Forward

_**Thank you all so much for being lovely.**_

_**Hope this one is okay? Feel free to let me know your thoughts. x**_

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-five**_

"Why didn't you _tell me_ how bad it was?" I ask, frustrated, once we are alone in his truck.

"How bad _what_ is?" he asks, sounding half-unconcerned and half-annoyed.

"What's happening in the work-yard, Eric. I had to hear it from Alcide..." I have to take in a deep breath to calm myself down. It's hard to even talk calmly and not raise my voice at him. "While I knew my brother could be an asshole at times, I didn't think he would actually stoop so low as to spread lies around your work-mates about you. You being a sister-fucker, and blah blah, blah... I didn't know he would take it this far."

"I already told you about it on the drive here, didn't I? About the exclusion part of it anyway." He looks at me and shrugs. "All the lies your brother and Hoyt is spreading, it's just... bullshit. It's just idiotic high-school shit, Stackhouse. I don't let it bother me, because it doesn't matter to me."

"Well, it _does_ matter to _me_," I point out stiffly. "It's just not right. It's _not_ fair."

"And whatever in life is?" His voice is utterly unmoved. "It isn't like I'm going to let it ruin my day. It's like what your Grandmother said; Your brother will come around, sooner or later. So he is spreading shit about me? What's the big deal? I'll get over it."

I shake my head roughly, no. Him getting over it just isn't good enough. "Yeah, but you shouldn't have to just _get over it_. It shouldn't be_ happening_ in the first place. They have absolutely _no right_ to be saying stuff about you."

"Well, what do you suggest I do about it, Sookie?"

"I don't know. Just do_ something_. Just tell them to quit it already."

He sighs wearily. "And you _think_ they'll listen to me, huh?" I know Jason and Hoyt probably wouldn't, but it won't hurt to try. "What do you want me to do about it? You want me to hurt your brother?" His voice is sceptical and he laughs unevenly. "What, you _want_ me to beat the shit out of him? Is that it? You want me to hurt _your own_ fucking brother, Stackhouse?"

Did I want him to hurt Jason? No, of course not. Well, maybe. A bit. But not badly. Just as badly as Jason hurt him. "Well, isn't it the same thing you do with bullies in the school-yard? That same old mentality: Don't let them taunt you any longer. Sitting back quietly and taking it isn't helping. Just strike them back once and for all and put them in their place. Then they won't ever continue doing it again." It feels terrible saying it, because it is _my brother_ here that we are talking about, but it's true.

"I don't want to hurt your brother," he says quietly and tentatively.

"Why not? Why should you have any reservations on it, when _he_ didn't show any about beating _you_ up a week ago?"

He inhales sharply, shocked. Then he mutters firmly, "I'm not hurting your brother. I'll just deal with it, until he gets over it."

"Then if you won't, I will. I'll knock some sense into him, tell him to stop."

"Sookie, I don't want you getting involved in this anymore than you already have. Let's just-"

"No, I refuse to sit back and let my brother treat you badly. You've been nothing but a good, loyal friend to him. It isn't fair that he is starting all this adolescent bull-crap, and here it is, interfering on your working life. It's not right, Eric. I won't have my brother doing that to you. I won't be the one sitting around quietly here, while it makes your life at work so difficult that it-"

"Sookie!" Eric squeezes out my name loudly through clenched teeth urgently.

"_What_?"

"Just forget it, okay? Its already getting beyond the point where it's getting me angry, so worst case scenario is that I'll just have to start looking for another job, where shit won't be said about me behind my back. I've wanted to start another job somewhere else for ages now. I'm tired of working in construction, I just don't know what I'll do with myself. But what I_ won't_ do- what I _absolutely refuse_ to fucking do- is hurt your brother, all right?"

"But it's unfair that it's troubling you so much that you have to go out of _your way_ to find another job. It shouldn't be happening in the first place. If you quit your job with the road-crew then... _what_ happens? W_hat_ will you do?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know, but I've wanted to get out of construction for a very long time. But as far as what type of job goes... I haven't figured that part out yet. I don't know what I'm good for yet."

"You don't know what you're good for?" I repeat dubiously. How can he not know? I guess we're all plagued with our own personal self-doubts, no matter who we are and where we come from. "I can think of a gazillion things you'd be great at, Eric. I think construction work is kind of wasting your potential. You have _so much_ potential that you mustn't even know it."

"Like what, though?" he asks, sounding ridiculously doubtful. "What am I good for? What would I be good at, in your eyes?"

Boy, I don't even know where to begin. "Well, for one thing, you're incredibly smart. You're super good at Math and calculations."

"So? It doesn't really mean shit if I'm good at Maths..."

"Well, you said you've always been interested in getting into law, right?"

"Yeah, I am. I still am. I still want to get into that, definitely." He makes an anxious face at me. "But what makes you think I'm intelligent enough for it? I'm good at Math, but... so what?"

"You are _so_ intelligent enough to be a cop," I tell him vehemently. "You're extremely level-headed. You don't act impulsively, aside from that time with Ben. Plus, you've got a good head screwed on your shoulders. You're loyal-perhaps to a bit of a fault, but that's still great. I don't understand why you doubt yourself the way you do. You'd make a great police officer. You shouldn't be thinking horrible things about yourself, and second-guessing your worth. And you never know, unless you really try. Otherwise soon it'll get too late and you'll be kicking yourself, wondering why you never tried out for it before it got too late. There's no harm really done in trying, right?"

"I don't even know where I'd start, though? How am I meant to get into it?"

"I don't know, but maybe just ask around? D'you know anybody who works in law? Maybe someone who works as an officer?"

"I do, actually. There's Andy Bellefleur." Andy Bellefleur was one of the main cops who did the Bon Temps route. It's a bit hard to take him seriously sometimes, but he's a decent enough cop. "I could always ask him how he got into the field, right?"

"Sure, you could. And I'm sure he would be real pleased somebody is showing interest in his job. I'm sure he wouldn't mind you asking about it one bit. Stop doubting yourself, and follow your dreams. I know it's kind of cliché to say that, but it's true. Don't ever think you're not worthy of what you want, and don't ever let anybody else feel as though you're not. You're a great person, Eric. You deserve to follow your dreams."

He laughs, in a somewhat surprised way at me, then leans over in the car seat to grab my hand. He wraps his hand over mine, and draws it over towards him slowly, holding it close to his chest. "You are so much mature than your brother, Stackhouse," he whispers out gently. He sounds emotional and breathless. It warms up my heart. "Jesus. I wasn't expecting that from you. How are you possibly younger than your brother, when you have all that wisdom and kindness inside of you? It's fucking unbelievable!"

"Well, everything that I'm saying here is the truth. I'm not lying."

"And everything that you just bothered to say about me is _exactly_ how you should feel about yourself, Stackhouse." He pushes my hand and fingers under the baggy collar of his shirt, until I'm feeling all warm skin. "What do _you_ want to do with your life? What are _your_ dreams?"

Now that is a very tricky question. "I guess I haven't really thought about it yet."

"Well, you should. Especially since high-school is almost over for you."

I have thought about maybe applying for a job at Merlotte's. I don't even know if I would cut it as a waitress or barmaid. I don't even think I have the right qualifications for it. I make a face, wondering whether I ought to tell him. "Well, I was sort of thinking working at Merlotte's would be pretty sweet," I confess hesitantly. "I like going here to Merlotte's and dancing."

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious that you do. Whenever you get inside, first thing you do is go straight to the dance-floor like you are drawn to it." I laugh weakly, knowing it's true. "I don't think they would employ people to dance around all night though, Stackhouse."

I snort at him. "I know that! I wasn't thinking about it like that!"

"What would you do then?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't mind trying my hand at waitressing, though. What qualifications do you think I'd need for it?"

"Probably nothing that you haven't already got. Hands and feet, and a wonderfully functioning brain. All that, and a beautiful smile. I think you should definitely go for it. They'd be crazy not to want you working here."

"You think so?" I breathe uncertainly.

"Yeah, definitely."

"Well, right back at you. I think they'd be crazy not to consider you for a job in law enforcement."

He slips his arm around my shoulder, and draws me in closer to his side in the seat. It's kind of awkward with the gear-stick in the way, but it's still cosy. I grin broadly as I nestle the side of my face into his shirt. "Hey, Stackhouse?"

"Mmmm, Northman?"

"Let's make a deal, all right?"

I'm all ears, listening intently. "What kind of deal?"

"Well," he starts, pausing to kiss me quickly on the side of my forehead, "You apply for a job at Merlotte's, and I'll talk to Sheriff Bellefleur about applying for a job in law enforcement."

"That sounds like a very good deal. After you talk to him about it, will you apply for a job yourself?"

"I'm pretty sure I'll have to sit a long test, though. I've heard you have to do written examinations that take up to over four-hours, or some ridiculous shit like that."

"So?"

"So... I don't think I'll be able to sit still for that long. What if I need to take a piss halfway through it?"

"Then excuse yourself," I laugh. "Other people have managed to get through it. I'm sure they wouldn't mind you taking a break to pee, if need be. Andy survived it, and he isn't exactly what you'd call the most restful person in the world. He isn't exactly the most brightest light bulb out of the lot, either."

"True, I guess." He ponders that in silence for a while. "So it's a deal?"

"Oh, it's a definite deal alright." I hold out my hand, and he shakes it without hesitation. "Besides, I thought you said you Northman's were natural-born survivors, or was that just plain cocky bull?"

He gasps loudly, in feigned offense, I think. "It definitely isn't bull, Stackhouse. I meant what I said."

"Then why're you so scared to sit an itty-bitty harmless test, huh?" I tease.

"I'm not afraid," he says hastily in defence for himself. "I fear nothing."

"Sure, you don't. You sound pretty scared about trying your luck at getting into the law enforcement field. So much for fearing nothing..."

"Oh, I'll show you fear," he mutters in a playfully, rumbling voice. And then, catching me totally off-guard, he starts tickling me. I squeal and wiggle around in the seat, trying to breathe. Right now I'm hating being such a ticklish person, and he refuses to stop, damn him. It gets so unbearable to the point where I start to fear I'm about to pee myself.

"Stop, Eric! Don't! Oh god, I feel like I'm gonna pee myself! Stop!" Only he doesn't listen. Bastard.

In my desperation, I manage to push his hands away, and then he bursts out laughing quietly at me. Son of a bitch. I lay there frozen, trying to get over the sudden intrusion of tickles to my body. My entire face feels flushed, and my hair is everywhere. I can hear Eric panting loudly from where he sits near me; He sounds just as breathless as I am, despite him not being the one getting assaulted mercilessly.

"Sorry," he says, although he doesn't sound very sincere in the slightest. "You didn't actually just end up peeing yourself then, did you?"

"Nope, I didn't," I whisper, relieved. "But I _almost_ did. I was _that close_ to, you asshole."

I so want to get him back for that, only I don't know how. Revenge seems pretty sweet, though.

"Are you ticklish?" I ask hopefully.

"No, I'm not." He sounds very pleased, too. "I don't have a ticklish bone in my body. Guess that sucks for you, huh?"

"We'll see about that." Surprising him, I make the attempt to pinch him around his ribcage, but he doesn't so much as laugh at all. I attack him under his armpits as well, and have no luck with that either. _Hmmm_, he must _definitely_ not be ticklish in any areas then. _How unfair it is._

"You must be a freak of nature," I joke. "How can you _not_ be ticklish anywhere?"

"Well, there _is_ one place you haven't exactly tried yet, Stackhouse."

"Oh, yeah? And what place is that? Do tell me, as I am mighty intrigued."

He grins at me defiantly, takes my hand, and guides it down to his jeans. "Tickle me here, and you might just be surprised by the results."

"All right, then," I say boldly. "Maybe I will just try that." I manage to slide down the zipper of his jeans and plunge my hand around inside. And, as it turns out, he _is_ ticklish down there. What a surprise, indeed.

* * *

It is late in the afternoon, I've finished my day at school, and just as promised to Eric over our deal, I am getting ready to apply for a job in Merlotte's. I've asked to see the boss of Merlotte's, Sam, so that I can hand him personally over my résumé and have a good chat with him to express my interests in working at his bar. I've never done this before, this is the first-ever job I have ever applied for, and I'm nervous as all hell. I thank Gran mentally for getting some decent clothes for me clean and ironed for it, and it leaves me feeling a tad less anxious now that I know I'm putting my best foot forward for it.

One of the waitresses working at Merlotte's calls him out from his office, and I stand over by the counter nervously waiting for him to come out. It's roughly over five-minutes of waiting, until he does. Sam is younger than I thought he would be; About in his early thirties or more, and the casual clothes he is wearing makes me feel a bit inadequate, since I'm wearing such fancy ones.

"You wish to see me, Cher?" he asks with interest, as he crosses over to greet me.

"Yes, Sir," I reply awkwardly, going to great lengths to seem polite.

"How do you do?" He shakes my hand. He's wearing a blue flannel shirt and jeans, with a skull buckle attached to a leather belt. He smiles at me politely and it seems to calm my nerves a fraction. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, my name is Sookie Stackhouse, and I've just got two more months to go until I complete high-school. I would be very much interested in working at your bar, but I'm just not sure what qualifications I would need for that, if any..."

"Well, you don't need much qualifications for working 'round here. You've just only got to be a people-person. What exactly would you like to do here, Miss. Stackhouse?"

"Waitressing sounds wonderful, Mr. Merlotte. I mightn't have much experience, but I can assure you that I'll work very hard, and I enjoy working around people of all age groups and differences."

"Is your Grandmother Adele?"

I blink at him, surprised. _He knows Gran?_ "Uh, yes. She is. How'd you know that?"

"She's a very lovely woman." Slowly, I start to relax and begin to enjoy myself. I feel more at ease to smile around him.

"Oh, she is. She's the best woman in the world."

"That she is, Cher. When do you think you'd be able to start?" That throws me off, in a big way. I'm speechless, and filled with disbelief.

_What? Is he actually giving me a job here? _"Uh, well. Since I've still got two months to go of high-school, I mightn't be able to come in during the day. But the afternoons and nights are fine for me, and I'm available anytime during weekends. Is that all right?"

"I'd be more than happy to give you a try out now, if you'd like?"

_Oh, wow. I certainly wasn't expecting that!_

"That'd be wonderful, thank you," I laugh out loud nervously.

"Well, let's get to it then. I'll show you how everything 'round here works."


	26. An Eggplant

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* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Six**_

A few hours later, I'm sitting on Gran's bed near her, reading one of her novels to her. For some reason she always enjoys another person reading the tale to her. This chapter I'm reading to her involves a rather saucy scene where the heroine and her main man share a rather steamy kiss, the first of many. I can feel myself blushing by the time I reach the end of the chapter. As I look up, I see that Gran has her eyes closed and a peaceful and dreamy look on her face. She seems to be asleep so I close the book as gently as possible, placing it on her drawer near her bed. Then her eyes open slowly.

"Hey there," I say gently with a laugh. "I thought you had gone and fell asleep on me."

"Oh, no. I was just resting my eyes while you read, dear. I like to envision the characters."

"Oh. So what do you think of progress? Are you happy the two characters finally sorted out their feelings and did something about it, or are you a bit miffed it took them over two hundred pages to do it?"

"I'm happy. And that woman sure knows how to write a great kissing scene."

"She sure does, Gran."

"You know what I feel like after a chapter like that, Sookie?"

"What, Gran?"

"A cigarette!"

I make a face at her and laugh in bewilderment. "Gran, you don't smoke," I remind her.

"I've done a lot of things you and Jason don't know about, including smoking cigarettes. Now get me one, please."

"How am I meant to get you a cigarette?" I ask, surprised. "I don't have any on me! You know that, Gran!"

"My top drawer near the bed," she tells me, with a deviant wink. "I got some in there. I got some matches, too. Just open up the window for me, honey."

"You do?" Gee, how funny. I never knew Gran smoked a single cigarette in her life.

"I do. Please get me one. I desperately need it after a scene like that!"

I can't say I believe her one bit. But when I lean over and drag open her drawer, I'm silently horrified to find she has a pack of Marlboro's in there, added with the matches she was telling me about. I grab her a cigarette and a match, then cross over to open her bedroom window so the smoke will hopefully drift out. I watch her, feeling so weird and filled with disbelief, as she puts the cigarette between her lips and lights it with the match. She waves the match out expertly and takes a deep drag with ease. Gran doesn't even so much as erupt into a fit of violent coughs; Obviously she has kept this her well-kept secret from Jason and I that she occasionally smokes.

"Now that's better," she says softly in relief, as she blows plumes of greyish white smoke out towards the window easily. "There's nothing quite like a cigarette after a steamy chapter in a novel."

I gape at her incredulously. "I can't even believe you smoke, Gran. It looks so strange to watch you doing it."

"As I said, I am an old lady. I have been around longer than you and Jason have. There are so many things you don't know about me, all these things that I got up to as a younger woman."

"Yeah, I can see that now, Gran."

"Are you still not talking to your brother?"

"Yep, pretty much. He's still being a butt-wipe. He's been spreading things about Eric at his work."

She looks back at me in concern. "Really, he has? What type of things, dear?"

"I can't really say, Gran. But all I'll tell you is that they're real nasty things; Things you'd be ashamed of him for saying."

"He's still giving that young man a hard time?" I nod miserably. "Have you tried talking to your brother?"

"You know he wouldn't listen even if I tried," I tell her, frustrated. "He's just so stubborn and being so immature, Gran. I feel so bad for Eric over all the infantile things Jason is doing all because we're seeing each other. It's embarrassing enough that Jason is meant to be my older brother, and yet here he is, acting like a childish schoolboy nursing a serious case of the sour grapes. I just can't talk to him, Gran. It makes me angry just thinking about it. And his friend, Hoyt... he's much the same as Jason. They really need to just grow up and get over themselves already."

"Does it upset you?" she asks, while handing me over her cigarette. I rush over to the window to flick out the long train of ash gathering on the end, then rush back over to give it to her.

"Of course it does, Gran! It's hard to be happy when Jason keeps interfering and doing stupid things. I just can't understand why he isn't happy for me, Gran. Jason ought to be happy for me."

"He probably is, deep down inside. He's just too proud to admit to it."

I try to sound casual, as I ask, "Have you ever been in a situation like this, Gran? What would you do, if say... you were my age again and your brother Bartlett wasn't happy with your choice of man?"

"I would go tell your Uncle to eat dirt. Then I'd keep seeing the young man."

I smile at her. It sounds exactly like something Gran would have done, when she was younger. "And what if Uncle Bartlett wouldn't take that as an answer? What if he kept on doing things and interfering? What if he spread hurtful things about the young fellow you were seeing, and it compromised his working situation?"

"Jason's been doing that?" Gran asks, sounding not at all pleased. "It has caused Eric some trouble at work?"

"It sure has, Gran. They're real inappropriate things he has spread around, too. Things that paint Eric in a bad light to his other workers."

"Has Eric confronted him about it?"

"No, but that's the problem. He just doesn't want to. He is so adamant against it. He just lets Jason go on and on, and likes to pretend it doesn't bother him, when I can tell it truly does."

"Eric's a good young man. Probably more of a real man than your brother is."

"Oh, I agree with you on that," I tell her vehemently. "Can you slap some sense into Jason for me, please?"

Gran laughs at that. She obviously can't tell how serious I am.

"He deserves a good hiding, Gran."

"Oh, I'm sure he does. He's a bit old for one, though."

"I don't think he is. Not with how childish he is being about everything."

"Are you happy?" she asks. I'm not sure if she's asking whether I'm happy with Eric, or if she is asking about something entirely different.

"I am happy, as much as I am able to be despite everything else with Jason."

"Are you happy you got the job, too?"

"About that, yes." I smile at her broadly. "I am super happy. I was a bit surprised, to be honest. Mr. Merlotte gave me the job pretty quickly."

"Well, he is a very nice man. He likes giving people chances."

"Have you known him long? It seemed to me as if he knew you very well. He said you were lovely."

"Oh, that's sweet of him," she says quietly. "I've known him for quite some time. He's very nice. Sometimes I see him at the corner store and he helps me carry my groceries. He's lovely."

"Yeah, he seems lovely." I stand from her bed just as Gran tells me she is done with her cigarette. I head over to the window, toss it out and dispose of it quickly, then make the attempt to wave every last bit of smoke out of her room, before pulling down her window again and closing the curtains. "Gran, I'm off to bed. Eric said he would call me."

"All right, dear." I kiss her goodnight on the cheek. "Don't tell Jason I smoke sometimes," she calls out to me quietly, just as I'm about to shut her door.

"I won't. Your secret is safe with me, Gran. Promise."

I get ready for bed, taking my phone with me into the bathroom so I don't dare miss Eric's call. I shake my head and laugh to myself. I can't believe Gran smokes sometimes. I never knew she was the type of woman. Then again, that chapter in her book was pretty hot. I can hardly blame her. Just as I'm halfway through brushing my teeth, my phone rings and it says Eric's calling. He has really picked the worst time to call, considering my mouth is full with toothpaste.

"'Ello," I greet, then quickly spit.

"Are you eating again?" He asks, sounding as if he is trying his very hardest not to laugh at me.

"Nope, I'm not. Just brushing my teeth. You always seem to call me at the most awkward moments, I swear!"

"How did everything go today? Did you get the chance to see the boss of Merlotte's?"

"I did, and guess what?" I can hardly contain my excitement.

"What?" It sounds as if he can hardly keep his in either. "Did you get a job? Tell me you did!"

"I did," I announce proudly, grinning. "I got the job!"

He makes a loud noise on the other line, and then I hear a loud thud. He's gone and dropped something, I'm fairly sure. He swears underneath his breath, then laughs to himself. "That's wonderful, Stackhouse."

"I know, right? It was fairly easy, too. I'm still sort of unable to believe it."

"Well, start believing it!"

I'm fluttering with joy. "Hey, did you do your side of the bargain? Have you talked to Andy yet?"

I hear him give out a long sigh. "I haven't, as yet. I didn't get the chance to. I had a big day today. We didn't end up finishing work until an hour later, then I had some stuff I had to do. Some errands."

"Oh." I feel my heart sink a bit in disappointment for him.

I think he hears it in my voice, because he assures me quickly, "I'll do it tomorrow hopefully, if I have the time."

"You better," I warn him, pretending to be madder than I really am. "You can't go back on your word now."

"I won't, I promise you. I am a man of my word."

"Well, you better be."

"Can I see you tomorrow before you head off to school? Can I come around in the morning?"

"Of course, you can." I find his asking a bit silly.

"I hope you like Eggplants, too," he says cryptically.

"Eggplants?" I blink at myself in the mirror. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean? Or is it a Swedish ritual your Dad did for you?"

He laughs unevenly at that remark. "You'll see tomorrow. Don't get too excited."

"What do you mean, really?"

"You'll just have to wait and see. Trust me."

I'm still trying to work it out, once I cross into my bedroom. Eggplant, really?

"Eric, I've got to get an early night," I tell him sadly. "See you tomorrow in the morning?"

"You bet you will," he assures me, and it sounds like a promise. "Goodnight, Stackhouse."

"Night, Eric."

When his truck pulls up into the driveway the next morning, I can barely refrain myself from throwing myself at him. I feel absurdly pleased when I see he has a beautiful bouquet for me. He keeps them in front of his face, hiding behind the bright yellow roses. It makes me want to laugh and yet leaves me feeling slightly worried all at the same time.

"Oh, are those flowers for me?" I can feel myself beaming up at him like a fool. No one has ever given me flowers before.

"They are especially for you," he says, still hiding behind them.

I try to wrench them down so that I can see his face, but then Eric kind of ducks out-of-the-way. I get a bad feeling about it. Something isn't right. Something's wrong.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong here, but it seems an awful lot like you're hiding your face from me!"

"You're not wrong," he says with laughter. I can tell he is trying too hard to make it into a joke.

"Show me your face already," I demand. "Stop hiding from me, you dumbass!"

A bit reluctantly, he finally brings the roses down and I get my wish. I feel my scalp prickle with uneasiness.

"How do you like your Eggplant?" he asks, and along with his light-hearted and playful words, I finally get it. It finally sinks in, just what he means by that. He's got a huge circular bruise around his right eye, and it looks very purple and sore; As purple as the colour of an eggplant.

"Goodness, Eric. What happened?"

"Congratulations on getting the job, Stackhouse. I knew you would." I can't even have the moment to appreciate the gesture of the pretty flowers. All that registers is that bruised and swollen eye, and it worries me.

"How'd that happen, huh? Tell me."

"Just drop it, all right? Forget it."

"No way. I can't. Tell me."

"Do you like your flowers?" he asks nervously. I can totally tell he is purposefully evading my question.

"I do. I like them very, very much. But what happened to your eye, Eric?"

"Nothing happened, Stackhouse."

"Just tell me! I'm not an idiot! I can see that something did, so just tell me already!"

He shakes his head, with not wanting to tell me, and before I know it, he is leaning down to kiss me. I can hardly get into kissing him back. I feel too sick with nerves and dread. I think I know what happened. He just needs to tell me out loud.

"Are you going to tell me or what?" I ask him, as he puts his arm around me, pulling me into him. He tries to kiss me again, but I'm not making it easy on him.

"Can I get away with not telling you?"

"Nope. Just tell me, please!"

He sighs loudly when he sees I'm not giving in easily. Then he says quietly and very reluctantly, "It was Jason yesterday afternoon."

_And that's all I need to hear. This has gone on long enough._

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	27. Screw Me

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* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven**_

"Want to meet my mom and dad? You can introduce yourself to them?"

"I thought you said they were...you know." Eric pauses and looks away from me quickly across the yard. "Gone due to that... accident when you were a kid?"

"Oh, they are." I give him a nervous smile. "But I like to go visit their graves sometimes and talk to them. Tell them about the recent developments in my life. Is that weird of me?"

"No, not really." He shrugs and finally peers down at me thoughtfully. "I'm sure if... it was that way for me, if I lost anyone, I would do exactly the same thing. I would talk to them, too."

Suddenly I don't feel so weird. "Come on," I tell him. "Let's go see them."

The cemetery where my parent's are buried is a few minutes away from the road that leads into Gran's driveway. It is roughly a three-minute walk, depending on how quickly you walk into the cemetery. Eric hesitates before coming with me. The black gate hanging around the cemetery is opened for the morning, and Eric stops still near the entry as I pass on in. I know the way to my parent's graves by heart, as morbid as that is. I stroll straight on in through the track, crossing over into the cut grass, passing several headstones until I find their graves. My parent's are buried right near each other. I find it sort of romantic, yet depressing all at the same time. I turn to check and make sure Eric is coming with me, but he's just standing around outside the entrance. Maybe he is creeped out by cemeteries?

"It's all right," I call over to him softly. "You can just stay there if you want? I know cemeteries scare some people."

After an obvious moment of indecision, he decides to finally step into the cemetery. He looks ahead of me with his hands tucked deeply inside his jean pockets, up the hilly grass.

"I try to go here every week at the most, but sometimes real life gets into the way. Can I put some of the pretty flowers you gave me down on their gravestone?"

He glances ahead of me, distracted by something, before he finally shrugs. "Go for it."

"Thanks. These are real lovely flowers."

I get down on my knees and crouch over the headstones of my parent's graves. It's obvious Jason has been here a lot lately; Their headstone looks cleaner and groomed today, and there is a little white angel ornament resting on the stone that wasn't placed there from before. I can't imagine Gran coming here to put it there. A lump gets stuck in my throat. I think it was Jason, and besides, Gran said he has been down here recently to see them. I wriggle a rose free from the bouquet and make a little hole in the ground for it so that it stays upright in place. After a while, Eric comes over, his eyes focused on the headstone of my parent's, with a look of muted surprise on his face.

"They were pretty young," he observes nervously after a moment.

"They were. They had Jason pretty young, too. I don't think they were even married before they had him. They were married, though, after they... had me."

Eric crouches down slowly beside me, taking it all in. I try to read his face, hoping it isn't too depressing for him. But it's a bit hard to figure out how he feels on it. "It's nice." He reaches out and pats the angel ornament gently with his hand. "It's nice that they were buried together. Even in death... they're still together. That's great."

"Yeah, it is."

"I always thought it would be that way for my parent's," he goes on after a moment quietly. His voice goes so quiet and low that it is almost hard for me to hear him. "I always thought that, no matter what, they'd stick by each other. I guess not. I guess that was foolish thinking, huh?"

"Well, I guess you never know what happens..."

"That's life, though, isn't it?" He waves his hand vaguely around the gravestones. "This is inevitable. This is where we all end up, huh?"

"I guess so."

"How do you want to go?" he asks, surprising me.

"How do I want to die, you mean?"

"Yeah. Like how do you want it to happen?"

"I don't know. I can't say I've ever thought about it before." I make a face. "It's too depressing to think about it. I'm content to just see whatever happens, and let it be. There's really no good in speculating."

"Hmmm."

"Have you thought about it?" I ask quietly, although it sort of freaks me out to know.

"I have actually." He smiles at me. "And I've decided I'm never going to follow the trend. Death is for pussies."

"Right." I laugh nervously. "Like you actually have a say in whether you die..."

"Even when the world goes to shit... I'm never dying, Stackhouse."

"Tough luck. And since you're older than me, you're probably going first."

"Hell no, I'm not." His playful mood evaporates with some serious thought, and then he cringes, probably realizing I'm right. "You're not allowed to attend my funeral either, Stackhouse. I forbid it. Your belly button is more than welcome, however..."

"Oh, gee thanks," I say, pretending to be insulted. "It is so lovely to know you prefer my belly button over me!"

He laughs, then gets to his feet. "I have somebody here."

"Who? A Grandparent?" I get to my feet and dust off my butt. "Let's put flowers on their graves, too."

He walks across from me, reading various stones, until he finds one. Then he glances back at me and shakes his head. "No, it isn't my Grandparent's. They're still alive and kicking. This is my sister, though." He nods at the tombstone. "Right here. She's buried right down here."

"I thought you said you didn't have any siblings?"

I stop in front of it, and try to read the name on the grave. It's a little old and hard to read, but I manage to make some of it out.

_Nora Northman._

"You had a sister called Nora?"

"I did." He bends down over the grave and starts plucking a few overgrown strands of grass out-of-the-way. "She would have been my baby sister, but she didn't make it past one."

"Oh." It explains why the grave is so small. It looks like a baby's grave, and it dawns onto me sadly that that was probably what she only was: A baby. "How did she pass? Her grave is so little."

"I don't know how she died, Stackhouse. I think I was five, when she was born. I remember holding her and her crying, and that's basically it, as far as early memories go." I hand him a flower and he places it long ways across the stone. "I remember asking my mother about it, before she left, and everything went sour with my father. I think Nora just stopped breathing, and that was it. She just miraculously stopped breathing one night, and next thing my parent's knew... she was dead, and I never saw her in the house ever again." His voice is far too casual. It's like he is pretending it happened to someone else, and not his family. "I guess it shows how fucking... fragile life can be. How... unexpected things can go. One minute I remember holding her, and I was so scared I was about to drop her because she was this tiny little doll, and then... next thing, she just basically disappeared from the house and from our lives and nothing else was said about it. It was like to my parent's _she_ never even happened." He takes a deep inhale of breath, then lets it all out slowly. "I think, since I'm older now... I get what happened. I think this is what ultimately fucked-up my parent's marriage in the first place. It was an extremely touchy thing for them... and maybe, they couldn't work past it any longer. The bruise was still there, every waking minute, of losing a child."

"_You're_ still here," I tell him firmly, and he turns slowly from her grave to face me. "I mean, they've still got a son, right?" He catches my eye and gives me a small, sad smile.

"I think my mother wanted a girl the most. I think that's why it was so hard on her. And, whenever she looked at my father... she must have seen this whole thing, playing out all over again, so she just decided to up and leave. Added with my father's drinking, I'm sure it would have been incredibly tough on her. She had to start over. Start a fresh, new life for herself. Heal old wounds."

"It's a bit mean that she has a son she never sees much. I could never do that to my child."

"I think that's the problem, though," he says quietly, and I hear a tremor in his voice. "I think I would just remind her of Godric, and the life she left. Things got messy for them. At least she sends me birthday cards whenever she remembers, so at least that's an indication that she hasn't completely forgotten about me..."

"You speak so forgiving of her, and everything."

"Well, she's my blood."

_Loyal to a fault; that's definitely him._

He turns back to the gravestone. "Sad you're not here," he says to it softly. "Sad I couldn't have met you when you were older." He makes a low sniffling noise then stands and grabs my hand. "Come on. Let's talk to your folks."

"Okay." We dart back over to my parent's, and I feel incredibly nervous for some reason. It's almost as though I'm expecting them to appear in ghost form and start interrogating Eric, as my boyfriend. "Hey mom and dad," I say to them awkwardly. "This here is Eric. He's really nice, and I bet you both would've loved to meet him. The flowers were brought by him, too. They're given to you from him. I know you'd totally approve of me seeing a guy who spoils me with flowers, so here he is."

"Sorry we couldn't have met on better terms," he says to them, and he holds out a hand to their grave, as though he is shaking each of their hands. I almost see my father smiling at him and shaking it, and it spooks me a bit. "Your son gave me a black-eye, is all. I'm not a brute that gets into fights, so you don't need to worry about it."

I laugh; I can't seem to help it. It's tragically absurd talking to my parent's graves as though they're listening, I know, but it makes me pleased to no end that Eric's talking to them as well. I don't feel crazy that I sometimes do.

Eric rubs my shoulder and kisses me on the side of my temple. "What do you think they're thinking right now? Do you think they're telling me to get away from you?"

"No, I don't reckon. I reckon they're smiling up at us right now."

"Your father is smiling probably only because he kicked me in the nuts without me knowing."

"How do you think I rated in your baby sister's books?"

"Nora, well... she's probably crying at the top of her lungs right now. For milk and a diaper change. That's solely it."

We both smile sadly down at their graves, and then I realize it's too depressing to stand around any longer, so we leave, perusing some headstones as we walk.

"We'll be here one day," I sigh under my breath. "You'll be here some day, and then I'll be here..."

"Oh, I'll be here sooner than you think." Eric says, again far too casual.

I wipe my eyes quickly as we walk. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I don't get to find out what he means, because in a very smart way in order to evade my question, he starts tickling me.

* * *

Working at Merlotte's was a lot more difficult than I anticipated it would be. I thought it would have been easy, but judging by the countless number of mistakes I've made tonight, on my first full shift at the bar, I've learned very cruelly that I had fooled myself. Waitressing seems just as hard as any other job; It's demanding and you're always on your feet, with hardly any time to yourself.

The only enjoyable aspect of the evening so far, has been the girl I work with. Her name is Jessica Hamby, and she is probably the sweetest girl I've ever met. She's very patient with me, and she just laughs it off whenever I do something wrong by accident.

I accidentally short-changed a customer earlier, which got him real fired-up, but luckily Jess intervened with a heartfelt apology and the guy went off on his way grudgingly. Jessica has saved me more times than I am able to count tonight, but luckily for me, it seems she is enjoying having the company of a girl closer to her age. She's seventeen, I learn, and she isn't allowed to serve alcohol- Sam's orders- so I've had to do it for her. It helps that she's very friendly and easy to get along with, too.

"What's your favourite T.V show?" I ask her, once a customer drifts away out of earshot.

"T.V show?" She stares at me blankly, then her face slowly lights up with understanding and she waves it all away dismissively. " Oh, no. I'm not allowed to watch T.V at home. I only get to watch it here occasionally during my work-breaks."

"Your parent's don't let you watch T.V?" I repeat, flabbergasted. I can't even imagine what type of parent doesn't in this day and age.

"Nope. My parent's are all about Bible-study and keeping up my grades. Your parent's let you watch the T.V?"

"My parent's are dead. I live with my Grandmother, but she lets me do whatever I want. Aside from drinking and drugs, of course."

"Damn, you're lucky. I wish my folks were cool like that." Her bright blue eyes run over me carefully and enviously in a way that starts to make me feel self-conscious. I know she doesn't mean anything cruel by it, though. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I do," I admit, a bit reluctantly.

"You have sex with him?"

I have half a mind to tell her to mind her own business, but then she's looking so innocently curious that I find I'm unable to. "A couple of times we have, sure."

"Does it hurt as bad as they say it does?" she asks, with real interest. "People say when you're a virgin, it hurts real bad. Does it?"

"I don't know. I think the excitement of it outweighs the hurt. Just make sure you do it with a guy you really like, and trust."

"How am I supposed to find a decent guy to have sex with when my parent's ground me for even so much as perving on one?"

"I have no idea. But it really isn't all that it's hyped up to be. You should wait until you're definitely comfortable with a person."

"How old is the fella your with?"

"Twenty-six."

"What, are you for real?" She gasps out loud in shock. "Twenty-six is a bit old, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm eighteen. Is it really too old for me?"

"I don't know. It's just... weird. Your Grandmother really don't care you're seeing a fella that old? I'm surprised she hasn't grounded you for years!"

"Well, my Grandmother knows him and she's always been real fond of him. She trusts the pair of us equally. It's just only my big brother who has an issue with it, not my Grandmother. She's perfectly fine with it."

"Now that's so flipping unfair! My parent's are all, 'You're not permitted to date until you're nineteen, so no boys. Homework first, no television... Bible-study, Church every Sunday, be a good role model to your little sister, blah blah ...' Why can't my folks be as cool about it as your Grandmother is?"

"Well, it's not really as if my Grandma's pushing me out the door and telling me to go off and do all these things. She still makes sure I don't drink or do drugs; She's not completely letting me off the hook here, she's still pretty strict. She is just more... relaxed compared to your parentals, I guess. But they mean well surely."

"Guess so. It sucks ass, though, that they are." She sighs glumly, and the atmosphere surrounding us is rather bitter and upset after that.

I notice her tune changes, when my brother and Alcide enter the bar, though. Alcide has clearly come straight from work, and his big hands are all dirty and covered with gravel. Jason looks just as dirty and sweaty. Jessica's blue eyes brighten as though she is a kid stuck in a candy store. She's so flustered I'm surprised she hasn't sprouted wings. "Oh my," she gasps, sounding very delighted. She leans in to whisper in my ear excitedly, "Sookie, are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?"

"Depends on what you're seeing, Jess." I'm seeing one great guy spending time with an A-hole who goes by the name of Jason Stackhouse.

"Everytime that guy comes into here, I swear, I just want to introduce myself and make conversation with him. But then again, I'm scared he'll notice how much of a dork I am!"

"Alcide? Oh, he's got a girlfriend, Jess. He's committed to her."

"Really?" She stares off into their direction with disappointment. "I guess guy's like that always are unavailable, aren't they?"

"Guess so. He's a pretty good catch, too. He's very sweet and nice."

She gives me an uncertain, shy look. "Should I, uh, maybe go over there and ask them what they want?"

"Sure you should." I try to smile at her encouragingly, because it looks like she definitely could use some girly support. "He's a nice guy. You shouldn't be nervous to approach him."

She bites down on her lower lip, dithering around near me with uncertainty. "You think I should?"

"Yes, I do! Now go on!"

"All right. Here I go." She runs her fingers through her long, straight auburn hair, messing it around a bit. Then she straightens out her shoulders and pushes out her chest to make her breasts stand out. "Wish me luck," she pleads happily.

"Good luck, Jess. You really don't need it, though!"

With determination in her stride, she crosses over the dance-floor towards the two boy's who are hanging around by the pool table, setting up the balls for a game. I notice she makes a line straight over to where my brother is standing, grabbing a long cue stick, and then it hits me a second later just who Jessica was really talking about. Oh, crap. It wasn't Alcide she was hinting to, after all. It was my stupid brother. He grins at her goofily and Jessica looks about ready to explode. How could I be so blind? Jess was meaning that she liked my brother, not Alcide, and it doesn't sit very well with me at all.

Judging by our conversations, Jess seems like a sweet girl. She's very pretty and maybe far too innocent for her own good. Jason didn't exactly have the best reputation; I've known him to have girl's over for the night in his bedroom, then just as quickly forget all about them the next day and callously not bother with returning their phone calls. Jason is all about legs, breasts, and sex, sex, sex.

Jason would have made a meal out of her. She doesn't deserve that; Jess is way too good for Jason, I decide.

When she comes back over to the bar, Jess fans herself subtly and is grinning from ear to ear. She has a twenty-dollar bill in her hand. "They want beers, Sook," she tells me nervously. "Two Heinekens."

"Sure, I'm right on that. It wasn't so bad talking to them, huh?"

"Oh, no." She looks surprised. "They're both real nice. You think I should ask him if he has a girlfriend, though? I actually asked him for his name, and he said he's Jason. You think I should ask him when I bring their beers over to them?"

I don't feel it is right to lie. "Jason doesn't have girlfriend," I assure her. "But also, he isn't the type to want a girlfriend."

"You _know_ that Jason guy?" She laughs quietly, fanning her cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me? You think I'm the type of girl he'd be interested in?"

"Jason doesn't really have a type," I tell her readily. "His type only has to have legs, breasts and a cooch, Jess. There isn't any necessary requirements other than that."

"What are you trying to say? That he's a sleaze-ball or something?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"Oh, come on." She sends a look back over into their direction doubtfully. "He don't seem that bad. He was rather... sweet to me? He seemed to be flirting with me a little?"

"On the home front he's a sweetie pie. But you just wait until after you've finally had sex with him and he starts mysteriously disappearing from your life at the first sign of things getting serious."

"How do you know so much about this Jason guy, anyhow? You know from experience? Did you sleep with him, or something? Did he do that to you?"

"God no, Jess," I whisper, insulted. "I have better taste than that. Oh, and Jason's my older brother. That's why I know so much about him, and trust me, you deserve _so much_ better!"

That seems to wipe the current expression of disbelief off her face. "What?" It's obvious she isn't sure whether I'm lying, or being completely sincere. "He's _your brother_? Are you for real?"

"Unfortunately I am for real."

"Well, yikes." I can feel her scrutinizing me carefully for any facial resemblance to Jason's as I dart over to get the beers for her to take back over to the pool table. "I guess you do look-alike, a bit. I never would have thought he was your brother, though! Gosh, I'm _so_ sorry! This is beyond awkward!"

"It's cool, Jess. I get women saying that about Jason all the time. It doesn't bother me; It just grosses me out, from time to time! I can't see the appeal of Jason neither!"

_Then again, why would I even want to begin to understand the appeal of Jason? He is my Big Bro, after all. It would be sort of... gross._

Despite all my warnings on my older brother's character, she doesn't heed them. When him and Alcide make to leave, he comes up to the bar and leans over to talk to her. "Would it be cool if I had your number?" I hear Jason ask, in that same-old flirtatious tone he always uses on women.

In Jason's code, I know by that he really means: _Can I get in your panties sometime soon?_

Jessica looks utterly flabbergasted by his asking. "Oh. Uh, my number?"

"Yeah, you know. Your phone number? Can I call you up some time?"

Exactly like before, Jess gives him her best look, while straightening out her back to make her boobs stand out for him. I almost want to gag. "Oh, sorry. I'm not allowed to have a phone. Maybe you can call in here sometime?"

I can't hear what he says in response to that unfortunately, because Alcide starts talking in my ear: "How're things, Sook?"

I bring my attention away from the pair without enthusiasm to look at him. "Yeah, things are fine, Alcide. I'm just trying to get my head around all of this."

"You're looking good in your uniform. You look like you're suited to this place."

Somehow, him saying that makes me feel a gazillion times better. "Thanks, Alcide. Where's Eric?" It's kind of sad to see he isn't hanging around Jason anymore. Then again, I understand why completely. Of course I do.

"Yeah, Eric's gone off somewhere. He left work earlier today. He said he saw you in the morning before he got started?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Should you be serving alcohol since you're underage?"

"Sam says I'm allowed to, Alcide," I tell him proudly. "He is fine with eighteen year olds serving it."

"Well, that's good. Eric looked like he was on a bit of a downer today at work. Everything all right between you two, besides shit-head over here?"

I'm surprised by this. Then again, maybe seeing his baby sister's grave did it to him? "Well, we went to the cemetery this morning. Maybe that's why? Maybe he's just feeling a bit emotional over that?"

"Yeah, maybe. Who knows with him?" He shrugs, and then moves away as I see Jason saying goodbye to Jess. Jess looks so red and hot and bothered, for reasons I don't even want to begin on knowing. I ignore Jason, as I seem to be doing a lot lately. I wave goodbye to Alcide, though, and he gives me a stiff smile in farewell.

"Whoa," Jess gushes, once they've left. "No offense, but your brother is so fine!"

"No offense taken, Jess."

"Hey, you mind if I pop out quickly to the bathroom?"

"No, you go right ahead. I'll cover for you." Weirdly, she comes out of the bathroom half a minute later looking embarrassed. "Damn, Jess. You must be a fast leaker."

"Oh, no. Uh." She hesitates, and then leans in to whisper in my ear desperately, "I just found out I got my period. You got anything? I know it's terrible to ask, but we're both girls here, right? I'm _so_ sorry! If it's too much of an inconvenience for you, then I could always wrap up some toilet paper and do a makeshift-"

"Jess," I intercede, trying not to laugh. "Calm down. I got some tampons in the staff room in my bag."

"Gosh, I'm _so_ sorry! How _embarrassing_! I wish I could just_ kill_ myself right now for asking!"

"Jess, it's fine. We're two girls here. You don't need to get so embarrassed! Go help yourself. Besides, I haven't gotten mine yet. I haven't needed to use them."

"Oh, thanks so much. You're a life-saver, Sook."

I smile at her in a hopefully reassuring way. "No problem. It's no big deal."

It's only until half an hour later that it clicks. My stomach sinks, and panic rises in my belly.

I'm wiping down the counter, and the bar has grown reasonably more quiet and relaxed, and Jess keeps thanking me profusely for the tampon what feels like every five minutes, and because Jess keeps thanking me it sort of crosses my mind that I haven't gotten my period this month.

_Make sure he wears condoms now..._

_I'm sure the water will wash it all away..._

Oh, screw me sideways.

**Hope this one wasn't bad? Sorry! I'll go run and hide now lol. Thanks so much, you guys! x**


	28. Kiss of Death

_**Hey guys,**_

_**I want to thank you all for being so lovely. Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it doesn't disappoint you in what I've decided to do with the pregnancy side of it! Hope you are all well and happy! I'm so flattered that people seem to enjoy reading the story, so thank you all! I can never seem to get my head around it! Much love x**_

* * *

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight**_

I stare at all the numerous boxes of pregnancy tests in the supermarket, feeling overwhelmed by the choice. Why is there so many tests? How is it possible to even begin on choosing the right one? Why do they have to make it so confusing to take a pick?

"Sookie? Is that you?"

I jump, feeling like a startled kitten, and turn away quickly from the aisle.

Uh-oh. It's Hoyt. He pops up seemingly out of nowhere into the aisle where I'm standing around, holding a basket in his hand. He must be doing some late night grocery shopping. Fantastic. A broad smile stretches across his lips as he hurries over. He must have somehow forgotten all about the slapping incident that night at Merlotte's. Sure, it was impulsive and mean of me at the time. But in my defence, he totally deserved it. Currently, I was tempted into slapping him again, just so that it would scare him off and make him leave me be in peace. Last thing I wanted was to run into Hoyt Fortenberry whilst making a late night call into the supermarket to buy a pregnancy test. Lady Luck was not on my side, apparently.

I make an awkward gesture. "Yeah, hi Hoyt. Fancy running into you here."

"Yeah, fancy that. Everything cool?" In other words, he is asking about something else entirely, other than how I truly am; Probably hoping for information he can wheedle out of me to gossip and moan about to my older brother later on.

"Everything's hunky-dory, thanks."

No doubt, I look just as scattered as I feel by running into him unexpectedly in the personal care aisle and he immediately asks, in a knowing voice, as if he knows otherwise,

"You're about as jumpy as a cat. What you doing in here?"

"Am I? Am I _really_ that jumpy?" Damn it, I was hoping I could come across as cool and collected.

"Yeah, you are. Did you just finish work at Merlotte's?"

"Yep, I did."

"Yeah, Jason told me about you getting a job there. Congrats. I'm real happy for you."

"Well, thanks."

"You still with the sister-fucker?" he asks, and then for once in his life, Hoyt looks immediately apologetic and embarrassed. "Sorry, that was harsh. I'm just used to calling him that, from work whenever I'm around your brother. Old habits die-hard, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Sorry," he repeats, maybe seeing the look on my face.

"Well, you should be," I mutter petulantly, hardly bothering to make nice. "Oh, and you won't be getting any apologies from me for slapping you that night, either. You deserved it."

"Yeah, I get that now. I totally do."

"Well, good." I grab the first pregnancy kit off the shelf that I can find, and hide it behind my back. Hoyt just lingers there, staring down at me. I really wish he would fuck off. Better yet, I wish he would go drown or bury himself in a hole for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. "Well, I'll be off now Hoyt. See ya."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he says casually. "Just so you know, I think you ought to stop seeing him. For Jason's sake, of course."

"That is really none of your beeswax, Hoyt. I never asked for your opinion, did I?"

He plunges on, unfazed. He just can't seem smart enough to get that I don't want to mingle with him. "You're not doing good for your reputation, Sook. You're coming off as a bit of a slut, truth be told. And Eric, well, right now... everybody sees him as no more than a sister-fucker."

"Fuck off, Hoyt. And I mean that."

"Tut, tut. Where did you learn such rude language? I don't think I've ever heard you swear like that before, Sook. Must be Eric rubbing off on you..."

"Hoyt, please just-"

"Is that a pregnancy test you're holding behind your back? What the fuck? Has Eric gone and knocked you up, as well?"

"No, I'm just getting it for a friend, if it's really any of your fucking business-" I say sarcastically.

"Jesus, I'm just trying to make conversation. No need to get so hostile."

I sigh heavily. "For the last goddamn time, Hoyt, mind your own business!"

"Well, fine. Sorry. Excuse me for trying to be friendly."

"Here's friendly for you, Hoyt. Go back to where you ought to be, and that's far up Jason's ass." At that, I storm off away from him, leaving him a blubbering, astonished mess.

I really don't have time for this shit.

* * *

I've called Eric so many times in the past fifteen minutes I've began to lose count. Each and every time I attempt to call him, he doesn't pick up. I really was hoping on him being around to tell him the news. I just got a bad feeling, considering how poor my luck seems to be, that I will end up pregnant. I wanted him to be there so I could tell him the unpleasant news straight up, but since he isn't answering my calls, it's obvious I'm not going to be getting his support right now.

Guess I'll have to do it all by myself, and suffer in silence for however long it takes for him to return my call.

The instance I get home, I run upstairs, bringing my bag with me. The little box holding the pregnancy test was inside, tucked away in it, invisible to the human eye. Much to my relief, I don't run into Gran on my way up the stairs, so that spares me from having to make up some sorry excuse about why I'm feeling off and not much like myself right now.

Since I've never had to buy a pregnancy test before, I'm a bit clueless, as far as what to do with it goes. Luckily there is enough information on the back, and thank goodness I have no trouble reading it or understanding the motions I have to go through. I double-check that the bathroom door is locked, before I pull the long cardboard box out of my bag. Then I lean against the sink with a pounding heart, as I read the instructions over very carefully.

_Remove test from kit._

With disgracefully trembling fingers, I open the box and stare at the strange, foreign test kit before me. It's a long and narrow piece of plastic, much like a stick, with a weird squared swab at the end. Apparently you have to pee on it for ten seconds, and I almost crack up laughing. Who can possibly pee for that long? It seems way too unmanageable, but fortunately I feel like I need to pee anyway.

_Hold under urine... _Yucky. Ick.

_Wait for three minutes afterwards. You will know the test is positive when you see blue markings. If marking is lined, it is an indicator you are pregnant. If there is no markings, it means you are not._

It seems fairly easy enough. Time to get straight down to it, I guess.

I wriggle down my shorts, part of my Merlotte's uniform, along with my underwear, and squat down over the toilet seat, positioning the stick between my legs. I close my eyes tightly, trying to breathe as slowly and calmly as I possibly can, while I go. I try to make myself go slowly, but it's a bit hard to. Once I'm done, I sit and wait.

Three minutes can sure seem like an excruciatingly long time. It almost feels as if years have passed.

Although I'm trying not to stress myself out too much, I just can't help it. My mind just wants to run and go wild with fretting. I just can't be pregnant right now. I really can't.

I'm too young. Eric's too young. He said he wasn't ready to be a father. Heaven knows I'm not ready to be a mother yet.

I can't help but wish things were back to the way they used to be, when things were less complicated. Back then, when I only liked Eric from afar, and stuff like this wasn't a possibility to happen. Back then... when Jason wasn't being such an asshole. Back then... when Jason and Eric were still the best of friend's. How can things change so dramatically? It's so unfair. How can only one moment of being careless threaten to rock and ruin your life forever?

When I'm one-hundred-percent positive three minutes has passed and longer, I scrutinize the test very carefully. I'm holding my breath, feeling ill with dread. And there's... nothing there. No blue symbol telling me I'm pregnant. No tell-tale sign of the worst. So I guess that means I'm not, right? I'm not pregnant, I was just stressing myself out and thinking way too much into it?

I double over and release the breath I've held in.

I'm not pregnant. So, why do I feel a bit upset by that?

It isn't like I would have wanted the test to come out positive. No way in hell was I ready for it to happen. But now that I know, I feel kind of... sad, in a sense. I don't particularly understand why I'm flooded with such loss over it, but I just am. At least, it's a good thing. I'm not pregnant, so I don't have to worry about it. I also didn't want to have to feel this freaked out ever again, so at least it made me feel more adamant on taking precautions next time when we had sex again.

I don't know how long time passes while I sit there, staring absently at the negative test. But when my phone suddenly vibrates to life, it almost scares me half to death. Yanking up my trousers, I race over to answer it.

It's Eric. My heart beats furiously.

"Thank goodness it's you calling," I say, relieved. "I was starting to worry that you wouldn't get back to me!"

"Oh yes, well. I only just looked at my phone, and I saw that I missed over nine calls from you. Is this one of those desperate obsessive girlfriend things?"

I laugh, embarrassed to know I've actually called him that much. But hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess. "Sorry. I guess all those missed calls you've received have made me seem like a mad woman. I just really needed to talk to you."

"Well, I'm here talking to you now. What's up?" He sounds cautious, and as though he's waiting for some very bad news. In a way, he's right. It could be bad news, depending on how he takes it. It all boils down to his reaction to it.

"Uh, I don't really feel it's something I should discuss with you over the phone. Can you come over?"

"Sure, I can. I'm just over at my dad's right now, but I could get to your house in, like... thirty minutes, I think. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's better than you not coming over at all. I can definitely wait."

"All right. I'll start driving now. Let me just say goodbye to my old man, and I'll see you very soon."

"Thanks. How's your dad going, by the way?" I feel a bit silly asking, especially since I haven't met the man before. I haven't the slightest idea what he is like, aside from those few times Eric has spoken about him. All the things he has told me about him isn't really much help at all, on basing an opinion; He's a crazy drunk, apparently.

"Shitty." Eric laughs to himself quietly. "Same as usual. See you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks so much."

There's a long silence shared between us, and it's obvious neither one of us knows who is to hang up first.

I make the decision for him, in shutting off the call. I can feel my heart pounding away as I stow the pregnancy kit into the trash, along with the box.

I rush straight into my room and sit down on my bed, waiting. Really, I haven't the slightest idea why I feel it necessary to tell Eric about my pregnancy scare. It just feels nice to talk to someone sometimes and not have to keep it all bottled up within. It's not like I want to burden him with the news, and after all, the test came out negative, which is a very great, relieving thing. I just didn't want to have to go through it alone.

I'm hoping it isn't selfish of me, but since he's kind of involved, too, I thought it would be best to tell Eric about the scare I've put myself through tonight. But telling him about it is a dilemma within itself; I haven't had to talk to another person about something like this before, of course, so I don't know where to begin. I'm absolutely clueless, and yet, also very anxious about how his reaction would be to it. Would he get angry? Would he be upset and wonder why I bothered having him drive all the way over to Gran's from his father's house, just to hear from me that I freaked out over the fact I hadn't gotten my period yet? I didn't know how he would take the news at all, and that was the most daunting thing about it, I think.

I'm hoping, in some ways, he will be very happy to know it came back negative. After all, we had a conversation just recently in his pickup on the importance of using protection. He had also told me he wasn't ready to be a father yet- far from it, right now. I wasn't ready to be a mother either. I definitely wasn't. I'm too young, life has only just begun for me. I've gotten a job that I'm enjoying so far. I'm in my first-ever relationship, and it's a very new thing for me. I've got all these things going on, and a pregnancy just wouldn't mix well into the equation. I'm happy it has worked out this way. It takes a lot of stress off either pair of our shoulders.

I don't want to be alone now, so I decide to head downstairs to chat with Gran for a while. I find her in the living room, huddled up on the sofa, reading one of her books. I slump in beside her, and she lays her book flat down on the cushion resting on her knees to give me her undivided attention.

"How was work today?" she asks, with interest. "Do you feel as though you're getting the hang of it?"

Gran knows about all the trouble I've been having. "Kind of, Gran. It'll just take some time, I guess."

"Like most things, pet. Just be patient and try not to get too aggravated with yourself. It'll all settle in soon, and you'll find it easier as you go along."

"I hope so. I almost ripped-off a customer tonight. I accidentally short-changed this old guy, and he got real mad and scary. I thought I was gonna break down crying by the angry look on his face."

Gran laughs, giving me a pitiful look. "Don't take it personally. Some people are just in terrible moods because their days haven't turned out right."

_Tell me about it. I was experiencing one pretty bad day myself..._

"Eric's calling in. Is that okay?" Since it's Gran's house, I still feel its best to ask for her permission. And, judging by the look on her face, it would seem she was very pleased I had bothered to ask her out of consideration as well.

She pats me on the arm gently. "That's fine, dear. Just no sleep-overs, all right? Especially not since you have school tomorrow."

"Of course not, Gran. He won't be here long. How was your day?"

"Boring and slow, as usual."

"Did you get any gardening done today?"

"I did, and your brother finally got around to mowing the lawn, which was great of him. That lawn needed a cut."

"Well, that's wonderful." It's so nice talking about other things; Things that you don't really have to stress about.

We settle into a comfortable and easy silence after a bit, and Gran goes back to her reading, while I stare at the television. Some silly commercial about toothpaste comes on, and just as it ends, there comes a knock on the front door.

"Eric's here," Gran announces happily.

"I think so. I'll go answer it."

It's really a pity I can't stay relaxed for too long. Halfway towards answering it, I feel like I want to vomit over the conversation impending between us. Forcing on a smile, I pull open the front door and there Eric stands, in all his oblivious glory. Since Gran isn't waiting out in the hallway, he clutches my face in his hands and kisses me for a very long moment that Gran probably wouldn't have considered polite in front of another person had she bothered dithering around.

"Hey," he breathes quietly, once he pulls away from me.

"Hey yourself."

"What's up? You needed to talk to me about something?"

"Let's just go upstairs to my room where we have a little privacy to ourselves," I suggest nervously. He stares down at me quizzically, and then after a reluctant second, he finally agrees on it. He interlaces his fingers through mine, and then I pull him upstairs. Gran calls out a hello to him, and Eric sends it back her way, just as loudly and energetically.

Once we slip into my room and I close the door on us securely so we don't have a chance of being overheard, I wiggle my hand out of Eric's and grip him by the shoulders, pulling him backwards to my bed. I shove him down forcefully with playful fury, and I can feel him staring up at my face questioningly. Maybe I'm acting too weird, and it's giving me away straight from the get-go?

"What?" I demand unevenly, but he just shakes his head at me.

"Nothing," he murmurs quietly. "You just seem... not you. You seem a little... off, like something is wrong here. Is something wrong? Why're you being so strange? Even with all those phone-calls I got tonight from you; What's happening here, Stackhouse? What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I was just about to get to it, promise. A little patience wouldn't hurt anyone."

"How am I supposed to be patient when you're like this? I've never received that many calls from you in like half an hour. I'm assuming something is very wrong here, something you wanted to tell me. So, just go ahead and say it already."

It's a very good point. Suppressing a sigh, I sit down beside him on the mattress, wrapping my arms around myself. I don't even know where to begin. "I don't think you'll be very pleased by what I've got to say," I confess, in an embarrassingly small voice. "I'm fearing your reaction to it, mostly."

"My reaction to what, Stackhouse?" He sounds utterly confused. "What's going on here?"

"I think I just spooked myself out and overreacted in calling you so many times the way I did. I just didn't know what else to do."

"What else to do about _what_?" Tentatively, he reaches over to place his hand on top of mine. It takes everything within me not to move away and cower in fear. I just want to forget everything that has happened tonight, forget it all and be done with it already.

"Just don't hate me please," I beg.

"Hate you? _Why_ would I hate you?"

"One of the girl's at work tonight, she's younger than me, and she was asking for a few personal things that reminded me that I haven't had my period yet." I can't even bring myself to look at him. Instead, I keep my eyes to the floor in front of me. "I don't even know why I automatically thought that might be it, but I _assumed_ I might have been pregnant because I haven't gotten it yet. Usually, it isn't ever late... and I guess, I got to thinking maybe that's why it was."

"But how could you be-" He starts to say, but then stops, when I think he realizes himself how it could have been possible for me. "Never mind, I think I get it. That night in the shower at my apartment." I don't even need to look at him to know how he is feeling about the whole thing. He sounds shocked and bewildered by it. "How weird, huh? Can that_really_ be all it takes? _One_ fucking time of being careless, and then... pregnant? Just _one time_ of carelessness?"

"Well, I guess that's really all it can take." I feel a bit teary. "I guess you never know." I finally gather enough strength to regard him miserably, as he sits there on the bed beside me. He's all tensed up and anxious, waiting for it to crash down onto us.

"So you_ are_?" he asks after a moment, without looking at me. "That's why you were going crazy with all the phone-calls? It's happening, isn't it, Stackhouse?"

"I got a pregnancy test soon as I finished work."

"Jesus." He sighs heavily and leans forward to bury his face in his hands. "Well, maybe this is a good thing, huh? A good mistake? We'll do right..."

"_Do right_?" I repeat, even though I'm a bit afraid to know what he really means by that.

"Yeah, you know. We'll do right. We'll do _the right thing_ here." He lets his hands fall from his face slowly, and he looks just as stunned and emotional over it as I feel, as though someone has only just brutally slapped him across the face without warning. "This can be a good thing, right? I mean, I _know_ I said I _wasn't ready_ to be a father but... it's the right thing, huh?" He peers over at me, a small smile crosses over his face, and my throat constricts. It seems we are having a serious misunderstanding here.

"Gee, no." My voice comes out louder than I had intended to speak.

"What?" Eric looks taken aback. "You _don't think_ we should? You think we should actually _get rid of it_, just-"

"No, _hold on_ a sec," I interrupt quickly, impatient on making this right. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't meaning that I _was_ pregnant. I'm sorry, I just meant that I took the test the instance I got home, and it... it _wasn't_ positive. I just thought it was right letting you know that I did that. I _never meant_ to say that I am pregnant! I'm _so_ sorry for making you think that just then! I meant that I _thought_ I was, I _assumed_, but... the test proved otherwise. I wanted you to know, because it just... it felt right to tell you! I just don't want to keep anything from you, that's all! I'm _not_ pregnant! It came back _negative_, but I just thought it was the right thing to do in letting you know what happened!"

"Wait a minute. You're saying that you actually took the test, and it came back _negative_? So you're_ not_ pregnant at all?"

"No. I'm not! Sorry for all the confusion."

After an excruciating moment of confused silence on his end, Eric starts to laugh. "Fuck me. Oh God, Stackhouse. I _thought_ you were telling me that you were pregnant? What a way to give me a heart-attack. Fuck!" I smile at him sadly. "I thought you were telling me you _were_ pregnant here. All of a sudden, all it took was a few seconds of thinking that, to feel as if my entire priorities have changed here. All of a sudden, I was ready to fucking be a father, this was a good thing to happen, a scary thing, and I was willing to just... do the right thing, which is to do this and let it all happen... and then you do_ that_ to me!"

I gape at him, speechless. I certainly wasn't expecting this reaction from him at all. No, he seems almost... angry in a way. Hurt, by the misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry," I mutter weakly. "I wasn't expecting you to take it like this at all, honestly. Did you _want_ me to be? Were you actually _hoping_ that I was?"

"I don't know," he sighs warily. "I don't know what I'm feeling right now."

"Because I'm not ready for this, and you know that," I tell him flatly. "And besides, you said under no terms were you ready to be a father yet. Sure, I was a bit disappointed myself, in a weird way that it came back negative, because knowing... it just makes things definite and sometimes it doesn't feel too bad being uncertain. But I just _can't_ have a baby yet. I'm glad it turned out the way it did. Is that so wrong of me? I just feel like there's a lot of things here that haven't been worked out yet. I'm not so sure where we're at."

Eric makes a face. "Where we're at?"

"Yeah. I mean... sometimes I wish things could be different. Just with how things have turned out, with Jason and all that. I wish he could be supportive, but really, he isn't. He's as stubborn as an ox, and that's throwing a spanner in the works, as far as being in a relationship together goes. I'm not that silly to think anything ever is easy, and I know most things aren't, but... I'm just not sure."

"I know where I'm at."

"_Do_ you?" I ask, eyeing him doubtfully. "Tell me then. It would be kind of good to know..."

He looks me over, smiling nervously. "Remember that time you mentioned about getting a tattoo, but you chickened out?"

"Um, yeah. What about it, though?"

"I kind of did."

"What do you mean, you kind of did?"

"I might have gotten a tattoo," he says quietly, reluctantly.

"Bullshit," I laugh out loud. "You did not!"

"Did too. Want to see it?"

"Um yeah, _of course_ I do. I know you totally didn't, though!"

"I swear I did." He brings his left leg up onto the mattress and starts rolling up the bottom of his jeans. "See?" He pulls his sock away from his skin, showing me the inside of his ankle. Surely enough, there is something there. I have to lean in closer to read it. It's very small, but I'm pretty sure I see an _S_ on his ankle. I have a feeling I'm mistaken though, and being played like a fiddle. "Now do you believe me? No shit, Stackhouse, I swear I did. I got it today after work, before I called in to see my old man. I'm not shitting you, I really did."

"What the hell?" I don't know whether to laugh or whether to still think he's playing me. It's unreal. "What's it say?"

"You can read. You _know_ what it says."

"Yeah, I _know_ what it says. But what's it stand for?"

He gives me a _you're-an-idiot-if-you-really-can't-work-that-out_ look. "It stands for a girl's name, I'll give you that."

"Stacy?" I ask, playing dumb.

"No. I don't know anyone called Stacy."

"Shirley, then?"

"Who the fuck is Shirley?"

"Sherlock?"

"Since when is Sherlock a girl's name?"

"_Who_ does it stand for then?" I ask, still playing dumb just because I want him to say it out loud.

"Sookie. It stands for Sookie, dumbass."

"This is unbelievable. Why did you get_ that_ as a tattoo? Now you're gonna have it stuck on you forever, you know that?"

"Yeah, no shit. That's the point, though, isn't it?"

"You know what they say about tattoos," I remind him ominously. "Tattoos are kinda the greatest kiss of death for any relationship or marriage. It's a curse."

"So? I don't really put any stock into stuff like that. Things just happen."

"That's so flipping sweet. Did it hurt much?"

"Kind of. Especially considering your ankle isn't very meaty with flesh. It felt like someone was carving with a knife into my skin."

"Ugh gross! I _still_ can't believe you even did that!"

"Is it weird that I did?" he asks, worrying.

"Nope. I love that you did!"

"Well, that's good because I can't really get rid of it, aside from getting laser removal, but who ever has money for that kind of expensive shit?"

Without warning, he crawls over on top of me, completely surprising me. Bringing up my legs, I hitch them over him, wrapping them tightly around the lower half of his back, my ankles digging into his backside, and he makes a noise and braces himself above me with his hands resting on the mattress near either side of my head. He pushes himself up against me; he's hard. It's weird with clothes on in the way, but then I decide what the hell. I smooth my hands down around his back, then down over his ass, making him move against me for some friction. I use my hands to guide him, to push him rougher against my shorts, feeling every muscle flex.

He stops moving to peer down at me. He's breathing loudly. "So when are you getting your tattoo, Stackhouse?"

"Oh, shut up," I laugh, forcing him to move again.

I never knew pushing yourself up against someone with clothes on could feel so good. I don't want it to stop, ever. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

"This is so wrong," I whisper shakily. "My Grandmother is right downstairs, and this is completely turning me on."

"This is turning you on, huh?" He sounds a little smug as he buries his face into the side of my neck, breathing just as quickly as I am all over my skin. Along with it, he starts pushing into me a little quicker and harder, creating the perfect amount of friction imaginable. I'm definitely losing it, and we're not even doing it for real. We haven't even lost a single article of clothing, for goodness sake.

"Yes. Yes. Exactly like that," I whimper. He quickens his pace, thrusting harder still, again and again, to the point where I start feeling like I'm about to explode.

"You like being bad, don't you?"

I smile to myself. "Yep, I think I do. Being bad feels very good, especially when it's with you."

I can feel the pleasure building even more as he slides one hand down over my back, pulling me up a little towards him, and the shift puts pressure exactly where it's needed and where I want it even more, and I can't help making little noises into his shirt but at the same time I'm conscious of keeping it down so Gran won't hear from wherever she is downstairs.

"Tell me you love me," he pants desperately into my skin.

"I do," I return weakly.

"Say it, Stackhouse," he groans.

"Oomph." I'm so unbearably close, I can feel it.

"Say it," he groans sharply. "I need to know it."

I can't even get started on it, because before I know it, pleasure overtakes me and I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from crying out far too loudly. Seems we're both in the moment, because I feel his entire body convulse around mine, and he's sending a gruff, strangled moan into my neck softly.

**Hoping you enjoyed this one and that it wasn't a big disappointment? Love to hear your thoughts. I'm going to go run and hide now hehe. I'm decided to change the story to M rating, which I probably should have done ages ago. Whoops. Thanks so much for reading! x**


	29. The Last Straw

**Thank you all so much. You've really inspired me to update quicker, thanks to you all being so supportive! Hope you enjoy this one, although it's some trouble with Jason! Hope it isn't a disappointment! Love you guys! x**

* * *

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine_**

To my surprise and not exactly to my pleasure, my brother is already up next morning, nursing a hot coffee cup in his hands as he sits by the kitchen table. Slipping into routine easily, I ignore him and don't say anything at all. I pretend no one is even there, as I head straight over to the coffee machine. He's not even so much as getting a "Good morning" from me. He doesn't deserve even that.

He's the first to break the silence. "Morning, sis," he says, a bit nervously. "How did you sleep?"

I fuss around with the coffee machine, being sure to keep my back on him. After a while, ignoring a person gets easier. Now I've pretty much mastered it to a tee.

"I'm talking to you," he points out crossly. "Aren't you gonna answer me?"

"No, I'm not, Jason."

"Well, why not? How long are we gonna keep this up for, sis?"

"For however long it takes to put some sense into you." Taking in a deep breath, I turn and pull out a chair across from him. I make sure there's a lot of distance between us. I can't even stand looking at him, so I don't bother with it. I sit heavily into the chair and stare down at my folded hands in my lap.

"I'm getting tired of things being like this, Sook. I'm getting exhausted with not talking to you. Why can't we just talk for once? Why can't you just quit ignoring me already?"

"I'm having a jolly good time ignoring you, Jason. Why should I stop with it now?"

"Whatever did I do to you, huh?" he asks, sounding hurt. "I haven't done nothing to you, sis. What makes me deserve getting treated like this from you?"

I huff out a bitter laugh. "Hmmm. I can think of a million things you've done wrong that makes you deserve being treated like this. The fact you're so blind that you can't even see it just proves my point."

"You're with him now, aren't you?"

Seeing no sense in lying, I nod silently.

"You two dating?"

I nod again.

"You know I don't like it, sis. It isn't cool with me."

"Well, tough titties, Jason! You don't like it, well too bad. You've got to learn how to stand it!"

"I don't have to learn nothing." I glare at his hands, at the steam wafting up from around his cup. "I think it's _you_ that's got to learn something from all this, sis. And it's that I don't like the fact that you're fooling around with my friend. Well, my _ex_-friend, I ought to say. Obviously he was never a real friend to me at all, and this just shows it. He just don't give a shit, does he? He goes out with you, taking you places where I have to see it. He's not much of a friend is he, huh?"

"Or maybe Eric has just realized how foolish everything about this is," I retort stiffly. "You're acting like a selfish little boy here, Jason. You're meant to be my brother. You're meant to be _happy_ for me, and for _whatever _happens in my life, and yet, you _aren't_! Instead you insist on creating this stupid little tiff, like you're in the school-yard all over again. Can you _really blame_ Eric for not listening and paying attention to you? It's because you're not acting like an adult!"

"I _am_ your brother. I _do _want you to be happy, sis."

"Then _why_ can't you see that I am happy, with dating Eric? Why do you have to ruin it all, by treating him as though he's your own personal punching bag? Can't you see it makes me unhappy with the way you're treating him, Jason? How can you possibly say you care about my happiness, like a real brother ought to, when you go and do something all the time to prevent it?"

"The way I treat him is right. This is about looking out for my baby sister, and that's what I'm doing here." He throws his hands up in the air with frustration. "I can't be friends with somebody, not when he's screwing around with my little sister!"

"Oh, and _why _can't you?"

"Because I just can't, Sookie! How am I supposed to look at him, and not see him all over you in my head? How can I be friend's with the _same_ guy that's fucking around with my little sister?"

"Oh, just get over it then!"

"Yeah, right. Like I fucking could!"

"Just _try_ to get over it then, Jason. Maybe try _growing up _a little, as well."

"You'll see, sis."

"See _what_?"

"You'll see, is all I'm saying here," he goes on, almost sanctimoniously . "You just wait till he hurts you, and then you'll come back to me crying all over it, and you'll just see then why I can't get along with somebody who fucks around with my baby sister!"

"Jason, I'm _eighteen_ years old. I'm basically an _adult_. If this thing here with Eric goes sour, then that's life, I guess. Most relationships don't last forever, and I know that for a fact. I know it's inevitable that someday soon something is bound to happen. I'm not naïve about all of this, and when it does eventually happen... then what else can be said about it, Jason? It's life! It's all part of life and learning. But you've got to let me make my own mistakes, learn to get over some heartache along the way, and grow from it. It's all a normal part of life, Jason! Even if this thing hadn't happened with Eric and I... it would have happened eventually, probably with somebody else. This is all very new to me, he's my first boyfriend, but I can't have you constantly getting in the way! I need to learn these things by myself, and I can't have you there starting crap like a school-boy! I just want you to stop it!"

"I'm trying to spare you from getting seriously hurt, Sook."

"Then _please stop_ doing that, Jason!"

"What? You want to get hurt and trampled over?"

"It's all part of the experience, Jason. I don't want you to have to feel as if you're responsible for whatever happens to me. You can't protect me from anything, Jason. I know you tried your very best when we were kids growing up, but I'm older now, and you've got to let me do my own things and make my own mistakes and experience heartbreak. You can't keep going on like this, trying to protect me from everything!"

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that; Either he's speechless due to my rant, or he's just so very frustrated that he can't even begin to put his frustration into words.

"So we're kind of on speaking terms again," I mutter after a few moments of silence from him. "What happens now?"

Even at that question, he doesn't bother saying anything, just sips at his coffee. I know what I want to hear from him. He just needs to say it himself. He won't be getting any help from me.

"You can't just keep holding a grudge for the rest of your life, Jason."

He stares down at his mug. I can feel my blood beginning to boil.

"Come on. You know what you should do, and that's apologizing to Eric and stopping all of this childish, protective brother bullcrap!"

"No."

"No, what? No, you won't stop being childish? Or no, you can't ever go back to how things were when you were friend's with Eric?"

"Just no, damn straight. No to everything!"

I was really starting to think we were getting somewhere... Guess not. "Why can't you be friend's with him again, Jason? I know Eric misses your company a lot." Of course Eric hasn't exactly said it in those words, but I know he does, deep down inside.

"I just can't," Jason says crossly. "He betrayed me. There are certain things you can never go back from, sis!"

He is unbelievable. I almost want to reach across the table and shake him around until his brain knocks against his skull. Maybe that would help rid him of his stubbornness? "How did he betray you, Jason?" I ask, irritated. "How?"

"You know how," he grumbles sullenly. "Don't even pretend that you don't know how he did, Sookie. He betrayed me exactly in the same way you've betrayed me."

"I haven't betrayed you at all, Jason, and neither has Eric. It's just all in your head. So, you won't ever think of being friend's with him again? Even when I'm asking you? Your only sister is asking this from you, yet still you absolutely refuse to?"

"How can I?" He yells furiously. He doesn't even bother lowering his voice for the sake of Gran not overhearing. "Do you have any idea how life has been for me growing up? Sookie, do you?"

"Oh, you think you've got it so hard, is that it, Jason?"

"I do. I have it harder than you ever have!"

"Bullshit," I spit out loud in disbelief. "I like to think we've both had it hard just as equally, Jason. Hard and easy, in more ways than one."

"Sometimes I despise Mom and Dad for dying. Sometimes I really fucking do!" Jason starts crying after that little confession, and I feel as though I want to slap him across the face for daring to say such a thing about our parents like that. "It isn't fair!"

"Mom and Dad had _no say_ in when they died, Jason," I argue back. "If they could have, I'm_ sure_ they would have preferred to stick around! You know it isn't their fault, you can't blame somebody for dying when they had absolutely _no say_ in it whatsoever!"

"But they still did, didn't they? They still fucking left us behind! They left us only with each other. You're all I've got, sis!"

"And I'm still here," I point out loudly. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. But Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted us to be like this, they would have wanted us happy, and they'd _deplore_ the way you're being!"

"You don't understand how it's like for me! They left us together and you're all I've got! Don't you remember all those times when we were kids?"

"What times exactly?" I ask, keeping my voice as calm and gentle as possible.

"Just all those times we were growing up! Like that time you and I were outside playing in Gran's backyard, and you took a fall and scraped your knee. Remember that?"

I do remember. I still have the little scar on my left kneecap to show for it. "What about that time, Jason?"

"Well, when Gran got you inside and told you to get upstairs to the bathroom to wash your knee... you weren't there to see the way she treated me. You weren't there! She made me feel as if you falling over was _my_ fault; I ought to have kept a closer eye on my little sister. Fuck that I was only nine years old and I didn't know any better! Gran always made me feel as if had anything happened to you, it was my fault! You are my responsibility, and I know that is exactly the same shit I'm gonna get when you and Eric break up! It'll be my fault all over again, and Gran will be telling me off!"

"Well, we're not kids anymore. I am _my own_ person. Maybe you ought to remember that!"

"Yeah, but I know how it's gonna go down. If things go bad with you two, Gran will be shoving all these lectures down _my_ throat! It's always _my_ fault, _whatever_ happens to you!"

Jesus, I can't take this anymore. My head is pounding. I can feel a massive stress headache coming on. "Jason, I've got to get dressed for school," I tell him wearily. I rub around my temples. Arguments can do that to me; Especially ones that seem to go nowhere, which is often the type my brother and I have. "Let's just talk about this later, please? I don't have time for this."

Before he can so much as start again, I race upstairs into my bedroom. About ten minutes later, I hear footsteps pounding towards my door and the doorknob jiggles back and forth.

"Sookie?" Jason calls. He sounds surprisingly worried for some reason. What have I gone and done now? "Can I come in? I need to have another chat with you."

"Jason, I said later," I grumble. "I hardly have the time for this now!"

It's obvious he isn't going to give up, so I storm over and open the door for him. He's standing so close to the door that he almost stumbles into my room. He stares at me blankly, his mouth wide open.

"What?" I ask nervously. "What're you looking at me like that for?"

"What the hell is this?" He lifts up his hand, motioning to something. I feel violently ill. He's holding the box of the pregnancy kit. Oh, shit. I should have maybe realized it wasn't smart to just throw it into the trash in the bathroom, where anyone could see it. Then again, I didn't exactly count on my Big Bro being a snoop. "Is this yours?" he asks quietly, in a deep, unsettling croaky voice. His forehead is scrunched comically in both concern and irritation.

"Maybe, maybe not. How is that any of your business, Jason? Just let it go please!"

He enters my room and looks around carefully, as though he is expecting someone to jump out of my closet or something. I'm hardly worried that anyone will; Eric left later on last night. "Why?" he asks. "Who got you pregnant?"

I clench my teeth tightly. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs at him. "Nobody. It came back negative, so you really don't need to worry..."

"Does Gran know about this?"

"No, she doesn't, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way!" My voice is rising.

"It's negative?" His voice is very loud. I watch in apprehension as his face turns bright red. "So you're not knocked up. How would you fucking get knocked up anyhow?"

I give him a _don't-be-so-daft_ look, crossing my arms over my chest.

He stands there, trembling, his head tilted to the side in contempt. "Was it him?" he asks loudly.

"Jason, just forget it, all right? You have absolutely no business asking me that!"

"It was him, wasn't it," he breathes in a low, hoarse whisper. "Eric. You two really are fucking each other, huh?"

"Get out of my room. Stop asking me questions you have no right to ask of me!"

"Tell me who it was, sis," he commands. "Just fucking tell me. Because if it was him, then I'll-"

"-What? You'll do_ what_, Jason?"

"I will _break_ his fucking neck!"

"No, you won't, because it came back negative. I'm not knocked up, so just drop it!"

I begin to turn away from him, collecting all my things to take to school, but he shoots out a hand and grabs me roughly.

"Jason, I'm _really_ tired of this from you! I can't_ take_ this anymore-" The words stumble out of my mouth despairingly as he wrenches my arm towards him and then he slaps me, hard. I pull back and fall to my knees at the unexpected blow. I certainly wasn't expecting him to go this far. My mouth opens in numb shock. I desperately want to vomit. I peer up at him with wet eyes and there's a flash of deep regret in Jason's eyes. And then he stalks out, leaving me feeling more alone and depressed than I ever thought was humanly possible for me to feel.

I feel sick inside, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. The stinging and burning sensation on my cheek instantly recedes. But what is now left of the pain is this empty shell inside of me. Why did he _do_ that? How _could_ he? I could spend all morning speculating, but then really there is no time to waste. I've got somewhere I need to be, after all. Time doesn't stop for no man- or woman.

Sliding back up onto my feet, I grab my bag and sling it over a shoulder. Then I'm racing downstairs. I hear someone making funny noises in the kitchen, and I know right off the bat it's Jason crying his heart out. Well, too bad. He won't be getting any sympathy from me. No goddamn way. I hear his heavy, frantic footsteps all the way from out of the porch as I start on my walk to school hurriedly.

"Sookie, wait up! Will you just wait a minute?"

I burst out crying; I can't seem to help it.

"Sis, I don't know what just happened. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I wasn't thinking..." His voice is getting faster and faster by the minute as he tries to urgently explain. I ignore him and keep walking, quickening my pace like a rocket. "Clearly I wasn't fucking thinking straight. I just got angry. You can understand that, right? If he had fucking gotten you knocked up, I wouldn't know what to do. I just lost it!"

"Jason, just_ piss_ off." My voice is trembling, and I hate the sound of it. "I... I'm getting off to school. Save your apologies. I don't want to hear them!"

"You know I love you more than anything in the entire world, sis! I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

Ignoring his wailings, I hightail it out of there. School is the very last thing I wanted to have to sit through now, but I really don't have any other choice, do I? My eyes feel puffy, red and swollen from crying so much, as I stroll down across the main road in a trance. My cheek won't seem to calm down from Jason's slap, my entire jaw feels its aching, and it's probably tinged red for all to see. Halfway down the road, I hear a lot of men's voices going at it with a hum of laughter. I also think I hear a chainsaw. Following the noise with my eyes, it instantly hits me, and I feel a thrum of fear and dread at the sight that unfolds before me.

The construction crew is working on a patch of road, and all these men are standing around, jovially talking and working their butts off. I spot Eric working quietly in among them, distancing himself away from all their gossip.

"Woo," I hear one man say. "It is boiling today, fellas. Where can I get me some Kentucky-fried pussy?" And then, he turns and looks into my direction, grabs one of the other fellows by the shoulder and they both grin at me. The next thing I know, they are both sending cat-calls and whistles my way. "Woo-hoo, I am a very luck lad," one of them says lasciviously. "I love the blonde ones. This must be fate."

Goddamn it. I must be about the unluckiest girl in the world.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," I mutter to myself anxiously. Maybe I should just get the heck out of here.

"Hey, baby," he starts cawing over to me. "You wanna piece of this? Fuck knows I wanna piece of you, little lady..."

"Naw man," the other guy laughs unpleasantly. "She's a school kid. That shit ain't legal."

Ignoring the two gross men with effort, I focus on Eric's back as he works. "Eric?" I call, my voice shaking. It seems to do the trick well. He stops what he is doing immediately, and turns to look over at me past his shoulder, squinting and blinking heavily in the sunlight.

"Sookie?" He stows the hammer he is holding into his tool belt and starts trudging towards me.

The two workers go wild then. I hear them laughing about me being Jason's sister and Eric being the sister-fucker, and it's unsettling to know that this is what he has to put up with every single time he is at work.

Maybe I look as crappy as I feel, because once he reaches me he put his arms around me and holds me tightly. I have to tell myself not to break down and cry. I didn't want to do that in front of Eric. Not ever. I feel one of his hands come up to my sore cheek. "What's up? You're upset, I can tell. Want to tell me about it?"

I can't tell him, though. I just have an incredibly bad feeling about it. Who knows what Eric would do to Jason, or what Jason would do to Eric? Either way, I was willing to bet my left leg that it would have only turned out badly.

"It's nothing," I lie, burying my face into his sweaty shirt. If he saw my face, I was scared he would have seen through my lies.

"If you say so then..." It seems I've sounded convincing enough, but I notice he doesn't remove his hand from where it rests against my cheek. He strokes it lightly with his fingertips. "You sure you're all right, though?"

"I will be," I assure him quietly.

He leans down tentatively, resting his forehead against mine. I'm startled by the warmth of his forehead; He feels very hot and fevered. It must be construction work for you on a pretty hot, muggy day. I'm glad everything seems fine between us, despite what happened last night.

"You look like you're swollen on your cheek," Eric breathes after a moment, his voice filled with agitation.

"I'm not. I'm fine, really."

"How'd that happen, Stackhouse?"

When I don't bother answering, he leans back to peer down at me, and I can't say I very much like the expression on his face at all. He is smiling at me slightly, but it's a strained, forced smile. His eyes are moist and I can see the uncontrollable rage building in them. He must be clenching his teeth together so tightly, because his jaw keeps twitching. I know in that moment, all due to the look on his face, that he knows what really went on.

He sighs loudly. "I'll see you later," he tells me gently. "I've got to get back to work, Stackhouse. I've had enough of this. This is the last straw, I swear."

Just with the way he turns and marches back over to where his other workers are, I can tell he is in a big huff. And, as if I needed anymore confirmation on how much he has been pushed to the breaking point, he goes straight over to Hoyt, holds him tightly by the collar of his shirt, and shakes him roughly as Hoyt squirms and tries unsuccessfully to get out of Eric's threatening hold.

Hoyt stares at him with an expression of immense fear, his cheeks flushed pink. "What's your problem?" I hear him cry hoarsely, and I can even hear him breathing strenuously from where I stand. "What the hell have I done to you?"

I can't endure witnessing it, so squaring my shoulders and putting it behind me literally, I turn and resume on my walking to school.


	30. It Goes to Show

_**I own nothing to do with True Blood.**_

_**I want to send a huge thank you to you all, for your lovely reviews. It really makes my day and encourages me to write faster, as cliché as that probably sounds, but it's the truth. Thank you all for being so amazing and for liking the story! I never expected I would get this much of a response, so it's truly flattering! I'm really surprised by it! **_

_**Hoping you enjoying this one! (I'm so anxious, as usual about posting chapters! I don't think it'll ever go away, though!)**_

_**(P.S: I hope you don't feel as if I'm condoning violence or anything like that, by what happens and Sookie's happiness over it.) Feel free to let me know your thoughts, as I always love reading them! :-) x**_

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_**Chapter Thirty**_

When I get to work at Merlotte's, I'm surprised to find Jess looks in a royal state of stress. She has tears in her eyes, and the instance she sees me, she rushes over and throws her arms around me. To top it all off, she wails despairingly into my shirt, shivering away.

"Uh, hi Jess. Great to see you, too." I pat her on the back awkwardly. "What's up with you?"

"God, you were _so lucky_ you just missed what happened," she cries loudly. "It was so flipping scary. It was like a real horror film, but real-life. It was so brutal. I don't think I've ever seen something so bad and nasty! I got so scared!"

"What's gone and happened?" I ask her, once she finally gains enough courage to stop crushing me to death and flings herself away from me.

"Your poor, hot brother just got creamed! It was so scary! Sam had to, like, full-on kick all the guy's out of the bar before they started smashing into things!"

"What?" I feel my mouth drop open in pure shock. "Jason got into a fight?"

"This tall, _tall_ guy comes in and starts getting angry with him out of nowhere. Something about 'I let you hit me, but hitting her is not acceptable'. And so things got out of hand and this random guy starts punching your brother, and this other guy, your brother's friend, he just stood back and started crying for help, and it looked like it was hurting him real bad! I started crying for him, and there was blood everywhere... almost knocked into the pool table... and then Sam hauled them out, and the tall guy was like, 'You call me a sister-fucker, but here you are... sister-beater,' and all this weird stuff!" After that quick mouthful, she sags like she's out of breath, then starts crying again. "I think you ought to call your brother and make sure he's all right. I'm sure Sam would let you use the phone in serious circumstances like this?"

"Try not to get so worked up over it," I whisper to her, feeling more worried about her than anything else. "I knew it was gonna happen one of these days."

"What? You're not gonna call up your brother?"

Jess looks at me as though I'm insane, and I get to thinking that maybe I should just call Jason anyway, check and see how he's doing. But after what happened in the morning between us, I don't really want to.

"Jason's a big boy, Jess," I shrug. "I'm sure he can take in a few punches. He doesn't need help from his little sister."

I feel terrible to note that I feel very cheerful as I get to work, probably_ far too_ cheerful and happy than what's considered right. I catch myself smiling a few instances, then immediately scold myself for it. It's in bad taste because he is my brother, sure, and I shouldn't feel pleased he is hurting. But in a way, I do, and I find myself unable to stop feeling that way. Sadly enough, it is the best I've felt in days.

Once my night is over and I get home, the instance I get through the front door, I hear Jason sobbing loudly in the kitchen. I guess it really happened in the bar, after all. I don't want to really have to deal with him now, but when I poke my head in to see what's happened, I notice Gran is nowhere in sight and poor Jason's all by his lonesome, crying his heart out while sitting at the kitchen table. I can't see his face, because his hands are covering it. But he is shaking violently like there is no tomorrow, and he keeps making soft whimpering noises of pain.

I know he doesn't exactly deserve my pity, not with slapping me. But I kind of feel compelled to see what he is making a fuss all about.

"Jason, where has Gran gotten off to?" I ask nervously, approaching the table.

He jumps in the seat, startled to hear my voice, and then he lets his hands immediately fall from his face. He quickly wipes away his tears on the back of his hands and tries to seem as though he wasn't really crying just then. _Ouch, he really looks a mess._ He's got one swollen eye that he can't even see out of properly, and he's caked with dry blood all around his nose and chin from a nose-bleed given to him earlier on tonight. He looks real filthy, too, as though he's been rolling around in mud. He's got dirt and grime all over his work overalls, and he's got leaves stuck in his hair. I don't even need to ask to know what went on today; Eric finally lost his cool, handing it back to Jason with abandon, and I feel almost awfully proud and happy for him in some sense, for finally sticking up for himself.

It's heartbreaking to see Jason like this, sure, because he's my brother and I love him to death, despite everything. I don't think I could ever stop loving him, despite him being the most selfish and meddling Big Bro ever. Maybe Eric's been right, in all that he has said? You can never hate your blood, despite thinking and feeling that you do.

But also, some part inside of me- maybe a wicked, cruel side to me- is silently satisfied by what I'm seeing. He deserved this, after all. I know it's positively terrible of me to think that way, but hey, it's his fault. He ought to have seen it coming, sooner or later. You keep on pushing somebody, and sooner or later that person is going to crack and give it right back to you, just as hard. Jason ought to have known what would be coming for him.

I can't help but wonder what has taken Eric so long to do it, though.

I mean, come on. Jason has been really mean to him for weeks, and weeks now. He beat Eric up, and even despite all that, Eric still felt loyal to him and utterly refused to fight back and put Jason in his place. What made him have a change of heart tonight all of a sudden? Why tonight, then? Why not before, when he was hurting from Jason being an A-hole and harming him?

I think I almost know why, though. It's just hard to believe in a way; The last straw off the camels back for Eric was not Jason beating on him all those countless times viciously and senselessly. No, the last straw that truly pushed Eric's buttons were... this morning and how he maybe saw how shaken up I was. I hadn't even told him what had happened with Jason, yet, _somehow_ Eric sensed Jason was the cause and culprit of it.

So, in Eric's books, does that mean it's fine for Jason to beat the crap out of him, do whatever he pleases in starting rumours around the work yard, spreading lies about Eric's name, but for Jason to do something to me... that is just not allowable? I just don't get it.

I just can't fathom why Eric reasons like that. Then again, maybe I never would. It must just be a man thing. Men are so complicated, and strange. They must be completely different to us women, surely.

I'm thinking so much, trying to understand, that it takes me a belated moment to realize Jason is just staring at me, while trembling and sobbing. His look directed at me isn't very friendly. No, it's more of an accusing look- as though Jason considers this all my fault that he got beaten up to a pulp, which is just funny. Not funny-ha-ha, but funny in a ridiculous way. Jason can't take responsibility for his own actions. He wants to blame it on others instead.

"Sookie," he mumbles tragically after a few moments have passed. "Sookie, look what he did to me. _He_ did this to me. Your _own_ fucking brother."

_Oh, cry me a river._

Sighing pitifully, I step closer to him. I lift a hand, burying it into his hair gently. What am I meant to say? What can I say?

"Oh Jason," I say very softly, "You brought this onto yourself."

His face twists, and it's as if I've only just slapped him. "He did this to me, sis. _Northman_ did _this_, _to me_. That's all you've got to say to me?"

"Well, shit happens, Jason. What did you expect? This has been going on for far too long. You keep pushing somebody, then you've got to know they'll lose it eventually and fight back. You've got no one else to blame here but yourself." Sad fact, but true.

"How can you say that to me? I'm your fucking brother!"

"No, Jason." I sigh sadly and pat him softly on the head. "You stopped being my brother this morning. Sorry to say it, but it's the truth."

He slaps my hand away, eyeing it with hatred like it's a vile bee that's only just stung him brutally. And then he starts with his crying again, curling up in the seat, his body shaking with sobs and anguish. And although I feel his pain, I feel awfully sad and worried for him, I do the only thing I can do. I turn and walk away, leaving him in the kitchen all to himself so that he can really think about the mess he has gotten himself into. It isn't my fault. He can't hold me accountable for his own actions. He's got to do this on his own, he's got to wake up and smell the roses. Sometimes the only thing left to do, the only thing you can do, is walk away. So that's exactly what I do.

Sometimes you've got to be cruel to be kind. And that's me doing it, as wrong as it might feel.

I head upstairs, hoping to find Gran. I find her in her room, standing by the window, her back turned to me. I know she's being sneaky with one of her cigarettes, because the window is right open, a refreshing breeze slips on in, and now and then she shoves her face right out through the rustling curtains to blow smoke well and truly out of the room.

I tap my knuckles against her bedroom door, just so she knows she's got company, and Gran yaps and clamps a hand over her chest. "Goodness, Sookie," she laughs in shock. "You frightened me for a moment there! I thought it was your brother!"

"Sorry, Gran." I grin at her apologetically. "No, it's just little, old me. Your secrets still safe." While I can't say Gran smoking occasionally pleases me, I know we've all got our vices and virtues. This is clearly one of Gran's naughty, little habits. She's human, like the rest of us. We all have our bad secrets, and our good ones. "You've seen how Jason looks, I take it?"

"Oh, yes. I have."

"What are your thoughts on that?" I ask her anxiously. I'm hoping she won't hate Eric now.

"My thoughts are probably the same as yours, pet. It was a long time coming. Don't get me wrong, I love that boy, but it needed to happen eventually."

My entire body sags in relief. I'm very pleased I'm not the only one that feels that way.

"It was from Eric, wasn't it?" she asks quietly, like she needs to be sure.

I plop myself down onto her bed, sighing deeply. "It was. I hope you're not mad at him."

"I'm not," she assures me, and it takes a massive load off my back.

"I know it's terrible of me, but I can't help but feel happy that Eric finally has."

"You and me both. Sometimes that's what it takes. I don't condone violence, of course."

"Me neither. I'm glad it didn't happen when I was around. I'm glad I didn't have to see it."

She flicks out her cigarette, then pulls her window down gently. She comes to sit by me on her bed. I scoot over to give her some room, surprised when she takes my hand and holds it in her own. "I think it goes to show, though, doesn't it?"

"Goes to show what, Gran?"

"That Eric _does_ truly love you. He cares about you, and it took something bad happening to you to make him spring into action." She reaches up and touches my sore cheek gently, brushing the back of her fingers carefully over my cheekbone. Oh, fantastic. She knows that Jason slapped me this morning? How can she possibly know that? I never told her, after all. In fact, I wasn't really planning to. I was going to keep it to myself. As if reading my confusion, Gran says, "Jason cried about it. That boy actually broke down and told me what he did, when he got home looking the way he does."

"I wasn't planning on telling you."

"Why not?" she asks, sounding outraged. "You ought to have. Whatever happens between you and your brother, it concerns me also. I had the right to be told, dear."

"I just didn't want you starting anything unpleasant with Jason."

"Well, I already have," she tells me angrily. "That moment has already passed, although now I feel like every time I look at him I want to strangle his sorry behind. I gave him my mind. I've never heard that boy cry so hard in my entire life, not even when the pair of you were children. He feels very bad about it, which he should. You don't go hitting your sister. It is not acceptable. I refuse to have it going on in my house, and I made that very clear on the boy. He assured me it wouldn't happen again. He also assured me that he would apologize to you. Has he?"

I have to think that over very carefully for a second. Did Jason apologize to me? Not really. He got mad at me and acted as though he hated me for not comforting him. He hasn't really given me a heartfelt apology yet, not any that would make me believe him and forgive him yet.

"At least he will let you and Eric be now, surely. I think Jason is frightened of him now."

"Well, good," I mutter, pleased. "He should be."

Our conversations fall into dead silence after a bit and we sit around on her bed, bathing in the peaceful silence. Then I feel Gran squeeze my hand. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Millions of things," I tell her honestly.

"Well, you know you can always talk to me whenever you need. That's what I'm here for. You can always go ahead and rant and rave to me to your heart's content, so long as you be mindful of your language."

"Well, it's bound to be a long conversation, though."

"I've got all night."

"Well, I just don't know how I'm feeling."

"Feeling about what? About Eric?"

"Yep, exactly that. You said it goes to show that he cares for me, he... loves me." I swallow dryly. "Well, as for myself, I'm finding that a bit of a challenge to work out."

Gran frowns at me, obviously at a loss in what I'm saying. "What do you mean, pet?"

"I don't know." I sigh heavily. "It's just hard to tell."

"You can't tell whether he loves you?"

"No, not really about that. But it's hard to tell where _my_ feelings stand. I mean, how do you differentiate between something still being a crush into something more serious, like love?"

"Hmmm. Very good question. Hard, too. You can just tell, I suppose."

"And what if you can't?" I ask her, feeling suddenly frustrated for some reason. "What if what I'm feeling is just a crush, like it's always been? I still feel the same as I did before, when I liked him. I still get weak-kneed. I still feel all clammy and like, whenever he smiles... his smile is the sun and it melts my heart like an ice-block. What if it's just a crush? What if it isn't love?"

"I think that crushes and love are almost identical. But over time, that feeling grows stronger, and that's love. I think when you care about somebody, about them not only as a person, but of their own wellbeing and their happiness... it's love."

"I care about Eric, and I'm not denying that. I care about him a lot, and I feel like I can be myself around him, I feel at home to say whatever I want and feel. I'm not afraid to say what I think, and it's reassuring that it doesn't turn him off whenever I do say something silly. I really liked that he encouraged me to go for a job at Merlotte's, and that betters me off as a person and sets me up for the future. I just don't know what love is, I don't know if that's what I feel."

"I think everybody has their own personalized view on what love means. You've just got to figure that out for yourself."

"How are you meant to, though?"

"Well, that's only something you can do for yourself."

"It's just so real, Gran. I never thought a relationship would come out of this. All those times, I just thought I was dreaming, and now... we're in one. And it's not as simple as I thought it would be, mainly due to Jason. But I just sometimes worry lately that Eric and I... he's older than me. Sometimes I can feel it, just that we're kind of... different. He's so more mature than me, he sees the world differently, and its confusing half the time because we just think differently. He's had experience with relationships before, I haven't. I feel kind of... clueless, and like I'm just stumbling around, unsure of what's actually happening."

"I'm sure that's normal to feel that way. He is older than you, after all. You can't exactly expect him to think the same way as you do. But even when there isn't an age difference, it's just because I think men and women are different. They think differently. They feel differently. They are an entirely different species. Even with your Grandfather, I still couldn't understand him... even after twenty years of being married together. Sometimes he'd get grumpy at the dandiest things. I remember when I was a younger lady, I wanted to be independent and start a job so that I had a bit of finances for myself, and your Grandpa kicked up a big stink about it, saying it made him feel inadequate at home and like he wasn't keeping up with the misses, so to speak. I think that was just ego at work there. Things were very different when I was younger."

"That's crazy, Gran. He got mad all because you wanted a job?"

"He did, but back then, it was also expected for the husband to be the breadwinner and the wife to just sit at home and do the house-work. It was going against everything your Grandpa believed in. He got so grumpy with me, though. At the time I couldn't understand, he just thought and felt so differently about things... where I didn't see the problem in it one bit. Now I think I do, but I've had years to reflect on it."

"How did you know you loved Grandpa?"

"I don't know what it was that made me realize, because nothing is ever that rosy. I felt I hated him sometimes, he truly got on my nerves to the point where I wanted to shoot him with his own hunting rifle. But at the same time, I knew I couldn't shoot him despite how much I may have felt tempted to, because I knew if I had then he wouldn't be around anymore, and that wasn't what I wanted. I needed him to help me get through things, exactly in the same way he needed me. Without him helping me out along the way... I would have gone insane. I think when you know you have somebody there to support you through thick and thin, no matter what life throws at you, and you can't see yourself over on the sunny side without them, then that's the person you want around for the rest of your life. That's knowing you love someone when you can't imagine a future without them being there with you."

Instead of finding some form of reassurance from Gran, it leaves me feeling overwhelmed and panicky.

"But what if you're not exactly thinking about the future? I know I'm not right now. I'm only thinking of today, Gran. I'm thinking as far as finishing school, and saving some money up from my job at Merlotte's to tie myself over. That's all I'm really thinking about. The future inside my head, is like... a black cloud. I can't see anything there, Gran. I can't see that far. All I'm seeing is a few months from now, finishing school and starting longer hours at Merlotte's. That's it."

"Well, in those few months you're able to envision, can you see Eric still in the picture?"

Now I'm really getting spooked out. "I don't know, Gran," I tell her, horrified. "I just don't know."

"Well, can you see yourself settling down into a nice family life with him? Marriage, children... the whole nine yards?"

I remember instantly Eric's reaction about my pregnancy scare. It seemed as if, to me, if it had turned out that I was, in fact, pregnant, then he would have been all for me having that baby and us... I don't know? Staying together? Having a family? Just let it happen? Or maybe that's just the type of person Eric is? He goes with the flow. _Whatever happens, it happens for a reason. Bring it on._

"Gran, I can't even _think_ about that right now! I don't know _what_ I want! I feel way too young to even contemplate all of that. Is that bad? Does that mean I don't love him, or what?"

What if he is too old for me? What if he's ready for something serious, when I don't feel ready for it yet? What if we're on different sides of the ball-game? And what if I never catch-up?

So much for having a helpful conversation with Gran. Now it's only just doing my head in. I was hoping for her to help me understand a few things... but now I've only got an aching head billowing over with questions that I can't seem to answer only for myself.


	31. I Don't Know

_**Hey guys,**_

_**Thank you all for being so lovely. Hope you enjoy this one. Please be nice with me, and not hate me! Love you all x**_

_**P.S: All will be resolved very soon, and there will be a happy ending. Promise. Sorry! Sookie is young, and she's over-analysing things. But everything will turn out fine, I'm sorry.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-one**_

When Gran pushes down her blankets, about ready to hop into her bed, I do something naughty in stealing one of her cigarettes when I know she isn't looking and that she won't notice. I hide it behind my back as I kiss her goodnight, and then when I leave her room, I carry it all the way into my bedroom, not really sure what I'm planning to do with it. I think I'm gonna smoke it, that's all I know. I'm going to try to, just to see what it's like. And then, out of nowhere, I feel like I want Eric to come smoke it with me.

Unhooking my cell phone from its charger, I decide to bite the bullet and call him for once myself. I sit down on my bed, crossing my legs, and find his number.

He answers after the first ring.

"Hey, beautiful girlfriend of mine." He sounds tired and as though I've caught him in the middle of sleeping. And I can imagine him perfectly, lying on his sleeper-sofa underneath a tangle of warm and inviting blankets.

"Hello," I whisper, feeling a painful smile stretch across my lips. "Did I wake you? You sound as if you were sleeping, and I woke you up?"

"I wasn't," he says quickly. "It's only nine-thirty, Stackhouse. I may be old, but I'm not that old."

"Yeah, sure. You were totally sleeping just then."

He yawns loudly, confirming my point. Still, he dares to deny it. "No, I wasn't. I'm awake obviously."

"Do you feel too tired to do something bad?" I ask.

"Something bad?" He repeats cautiously. "What do you have in mind?"

"I really want to see you. Could you come pick me up?"

"Now?" I've surprised him. "Now at nine-thirty? Are you sure about that?"

"Yep, I definitely am. I want to see you."

"Where does the bad side come into all of this?" he asks, stretching. "I thought you said you feel up to something bad?"

"I do, and I am doing something bad. And that's sneaking out and hopping into your truck without Gran knowing."

"Oh, all right then. But if your Grandmother finds out and gets angry, then it's your fault."

"I'll take all the blame. So it's a yes? You're coming?"

"I'm on my way."

"Bring a lighter or something," I add before hanging up.

Feeling excited, I climb off my bed and slip into a pair of jeans. It looks cold out, so I pull on a jumper, just for when. I grab the lone cigarette I stole off Gran without her knowing, too, and bring it with me. Sneaking out isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I don't feel very guilty as I thought I would for doing it, either. My bedroom door doesn't squeak as I open it and slip out quietly. The stairs don't creak either when I take them two at a time. Just as I successfully slip-out onto the porch, I see the headlights of Eric's truck heading up the driveway. After I make sure I didn't lock myself out the front door, I jump down the porch steps and cut through the yard towards his pickup. I wouldn't have the slightest idea how to explain myself if Gran somehow mysteriously heard me sneaking out, but that makes it all the more thrilling. I get a huge adrenaline rush when I see Eric flip off the lights on his truck when he parks halfway down the long driveway.

I get in carefully and rub my hands together for some warmth before leaning over in the seat and giving Eric a quick kiss on the mouth.

The lighter he brought along for me is sitting on the dashboard.

He flips on the lights again and reverses out of the driveway, being careful not to make too much noise. He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a white V-neck shirt. He has a pair of flip-flops on slipped over his bare feet, and he looks like he literally rolled off his sleeper-sofa to come get me.

"You're wearing funny slippers, Stackhouse," he says, pulling out onto the road.

I look down at my slippers myself and shrug. They are a bit dorky. Gran brought them for me, and they are bright pink and fluffy, very girly. But they keep my feet very snug and warm, so they do their job well and that's all that really matters.

"Where are we going exactly?" he asks.

Hmmm. It's a very good question, one I don't know the answer to myself. "I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. My apartment maybe?"

"Well, I brought this with me, anyway," I tell him, showing him the cigarette and feeling ridiculously proud of myself.

He laughs. "Where the hell did you manage to get a cigarette from, Stackhouse?"

"It's one of Gran's."

"Your Grandmother smokes?" He sounds just as shocked as I was.

"Yeah, apparently she does. She's been hiding it well from me and Jason."

"I never knew that. I didn't even think she was the type of woman to smoke."

"I know. Me neither. Want to smoke it with me?"

"So that's why you asked me to bring you a lighter. Suddenly it makes sense." He laughs again, like he can't believe it.

"Do you want to with me?" I ask, feeling a bit silly by the excitement in my voice.

"Sure, why not? Let's do it. Let's go down to the pond where you skinny-dipped that time." So we just do. It's quiet and dark out, and when we climb out of his car, I'm assaulted by the sound of frogs croaking and the buzz of mosquitoes. He drags out a blanket he has in his truck, and we sit on it on the back of his truck. It's a bit cold out and I can't help shivering, but snuggling against him under the blanket definitely helps.

Handling the cigarette carefully, I push it between my lips and struggle to light the end with the lighter. It's so obvious I've never smoked before in my entire life, and Eric laughs before pulling the cigarette from my lips and taking the lighter from me.

"Here is how you do it, Stackhouse," he says, sounding a little smug. He pushes it between his parted lips and lights it without effort. "You just inhale it in, like this." I watch his face carefully, kind of curious and awed, all at once, as he pulls in a shallow breath and the end smoulders amber-orange. He exhales out to his left, and all this cigarette smoke whirls into the air. "Just like that. You breathe it in, and then blow it out. Nothing else to it."

"All right, all right," I retort, a little impatiently. "I think I get it." I go to snatch the cigarette off him, but he quickly moves his hand far away from my reach, infuriating me.

He shifts a bit on the back of his truck so that we're more closer together, holding the lit end towards himself. "You just breathe back until it scratches your throat so you can feel it going in, and then you just blow it out."

I sit up straighter and hold out my hands, ready than ever to have my first try at smoking a cigarette.

"Open your lips a bit," he orders quietly, so I do. Then utterly surprising me, he brings the cigarette over until his fingers are almost touching my lips, pushing the end between my parted lips. I close my lips over it, and then take a slow and steady pull until I feel the smoke in my mouth. The tip glows and the tobacco makes a weird crackling noise. And it's absolutely... disgusting and not as fun as I thought it would be. God damn. How can my Grandmother stand it? "Blow it out already, Stackhouse," Eric reminds me, when I'm just sort of holding it in and nothings happening.

I breathe out, but it isn't air, but whitish smoke that flies out of my mouth. Feeling like a complete idiot, I can't help coughing and spluttering loudly. I bring a hand up to my mouth, feeling my eyes water. I can tell Eric is trying not to laugh at me, but he slips up.

"That's so fucking cute. I love how you just cough."

"Shut up," I gasp, sounding way more angrier than I actually feel at him. "You've _obviously_ smoked a cigarette before, when I haven't. It's so cruel that you're laughing at me!"

Eric laughs again, before going quiet and taking another drag. He sucks it all in, and inhales it out effortlessly without even so much as breaking out into a coughing fit. It feels silly to be envious of him being able to smoke a cigarette, but there's no denying that I am.

"How can my Gran smoke these things?" I mutter, horrified. "It's revolting. It tastes like crap!"

"Your brother and I did this," he says, his voice sounding raspy and deep. "At lunch, sometimes we would sneak away from school and hide, seeing who could chain-smoke the most amount of cigarettes first without feeling like we were going to be sick."

I feel my eyes bug out. I can't believe my brother did that. "You won, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, I did win, a couple of times," he says, almost proudly. He goes to offer me the cigarette, but I decline. It's way too disgusting to try smoking it again. How stupid of an idea was it of me. "Speaking of your brother... how is he?"

I know he's referring indirectly to punching him. "He'll be fine," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder. "He'll get over it. He didn't look as bad as you did, when he went crazy on you. He was really insulted that I told him how it was, and that he brought it all onto himself. I think he wanted me to feel sorry for him, and seeing how badly hurt he was... I think he was almost expecting me to jump to his side and call it a day with you. I think he expected it to turn me off you, or something."

"And did it?" he asks. "Are you mad that I hurt him?"

"Not really. I know that's kind of mean to feel that way, but I'm kind of glad." I grimace up at the crescent shape of the moon.

"I kind of lost it on him," he says quietly, and I can hear the embarrassment and regret in his voice. "I was shitty that he hurt you. I feel bad about losing it and hurting him, but... I just didn't know what else to do."

I nod, completely understanding him. It did upset me and concern me to see Jason look the way he did. Even how he cried, for goodness sake. But then I can understand why Eric did it and feel somewhat grateful for it. If that makes me a terrible sister, then so be it. I guess I am one.

"I just want it to be over now." His voice is so low and frustrated. "I didn't actually realize how much it all fucking bothered me, until tonight when I lost it. I was that close to losing it on Hoyt, too, but then I kind of... got over it and just saw no point in doing anymore damage." He sighs loudly and maybe knowing that I don't want anymore of that god-awful cigarette, he leans over and flicks it away out of his truck. "Was your Grandmother upset?"

"No, she wasn't." I feel like laughing out-loud in astonishment as I think back to my Granny's reaction to it. Only I don't. I keep it all in. "She felt the same way I did, surprisingly. She doesn't blame you one bit for doing it. We both just hope Jason will learn from it, and stop all of this. We can only keep hoping, I guess..."

"I'm hoping for that as well." He takes my hand and pulls it over to his chest, slipping his fingers through mine. He tries to hold eye-contact with me, but it's kind of far too dark for that, so I purposefully look away. Everything is quiet for a bit, and I can feel his eyes on me. It starts to make me feel hot, and I'm very pleased he can't see how red my face probably is due to it. "What are you thinking?" he asks, after a bit, sounding genuinely curious.

I let my eyes flit back to him. "Right now?" He nods silently, holding my eyes in. "Honestly nothing," I fib, although I know its way more than nothing that I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about tonight, back to my conversation with my Granny. I'm still conflicted on how I feel, on whether what I'm feeling for him is love or just still a silly, little infatuation. It seems near to impossible to figure it out, but I know admitting my confusions to Eric would only throw another spanner into the works. "What are _you_ thinking?"

He laughs, a little awkwardly. "I'm thinking this is different to how it was with Pam."_ I definitely wasn't expecting that. He's thinking about his ex._

"Oh." My stomach does somersaults. "Bad or good different?"

He's silent for a moment, considering. Then he says decidedly, "Definitely in a good way."

"Please explain," I intone in a playfully robotic voice. He shakes silently in laughter. It makes me smile like a dope. Then he gives out a long sigh, and I feel him shrug the shoulder that I'm still resting my head against.

"I don't know. I guess you've got me wanting different things, things that I never wanted with Pam."

"What kind of things?"

"It's really hard to explain easily, Stackhouse." He's frustrated. I can feel it in his posture and hear it in his tone of voice.

"Try me," I whisper.

"Just, like, how when you said you took a pregnancy test and how you were scared you were pregnant. It didn't really scare me, like it would have with Pam. With Pam, I never wanted to be a husband or a father. It was just something I never wanted with her. I never saw it going that way with her." He shrugs. "But with you... I feel like, whatever happens, it's a good thing. It doesn't scare the shit out of me, with you. It feels kind of... right, you know? Just like, maybe you're the right person? The right girl, and Pam wasn't? Maybe that's why it would have never worked out between Pam and me. She wanted different things. She wanted me to fucking marry her and do all this shit, and it completely turned me off. I felt I wasn't ready for it. And then, with you... I just feel ready. Does that make any sense to you, or should I stop while I'm already ahead?"

I'm motionless, afraid to move. Afraid to answer, because if I do, I might just say the wrong thing and stuff everything up.

"It's kind of like what I said before, about you being worth it..." He's quiet after that, thoughtful. And then he turns his body on a slant, until I feel him really looking at me. He's searching me with his eyes, and it takes everything within me not to just shy away. "Do you feel the same way, Stackhouse?"

It's what I've dreaded him asking, all along. Because those previous doubts from chatting to my Grandmother rise back up to the surface, confounding me. I don't know what I feel. I don't know how I feel. I don't know what this is that I'm feeling.

I can't see anyway of getting out of it. "I don't know, Eric," I reply slowly, reluctantly.

His confused silence is so obvious you could almost hear a coin drop between the space of it. "You don't know?" he asks finally, after seemingly finding his voice again. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

The sudden urge to hit something comes on so strong, that I end up slapping my thigh loudly with my hand in all my frustration. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm feeling, whether I... I love you, or what. I just don't know."

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**QUESTION: How did you find out/know you loved the person you were with? Was it something that easily just came to you, or did you have to do some serious soul-searching to realize it?**

**So sorry if this chapter has made you mad with how it went. Promise you won't have to wait long for another update (if you even still want to stick around, despite what I've done). Love you all, thanks for being amazing peeps! It's shocking how many are reading and seem to enjoy this story, so thank you!**


	32. Nothing Left to Lose

**I want to thank you all for being so lovely and sweet. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-) Hope you're all well xx**

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_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

"Please don't hate me." It seems like something I'll constantly be saying. _Don't hate me._

I can tell I've screwed everything up - in a big way. His quietness confirms it. He just sits there, without telling me a single word. His silence is enough. I have gone and screwed up everything, and it just drives me on with desperation I never even knew existed within me.

"I've never... done anything like this before, whereas you have. You've been in relationships before, and I haven't. I'm just confused on how I'm feeling about you. But then, I know I have wished for this ever since you came into my life, as Jason's friend." I don't even know how to begin on explaining and putting it into words. Something tells me I'm doing a pathetic job with it all, but I've got to try, right? "Maybe I was being too hasty in what I said just then? I didn't mean to insult you in saying that..." I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed with all these various emotions that are trying to battle their way to front place; Desperation to make him understand, fear that I've gone and said something wrong beyond repair. I peer at him through the dark, to see whether I've made any sense. I can hardly see his expression at all; It is way too dark and it makes it a million times worse that I can't see him to know how he's feeling. I need to make sure I am on my way to expressing it right. "I'm just confused with how I'm feeling, most of all. But that isn't to say that I don't know how great I feel spending time with you. I enjoy spending time with you, and I really, really like you."

I think that, despite my hopeless attempts at putting this right, he is still upset with me. I can just sense it, in his silence and the way his body is so still, rigid, like he's getting ready to defend himself if need be. I lean my head against his shoulder, still trying to work out his expression. Never have I hated shadows as much as I do right now.

"Eric. Please just don't hate me. Can't you just speak to me?"

"I'm not _not_ speaking to you," he finally says. His tone of voice is even harder to figure out.

"Well, are you _mad at me_ then?"

"I don't hate you, but I'm kind of... stumped." He sighs loudly. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Anything helps instead of being so quiet, like you are. You being quiet, it just makes it millions worse."

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to say here, Sookie?" He's beginning to get angry. Now I can understand how he is feeling, loud and clear as crystal. "What do you want me to do about it? So you don't know how you're feeling. You're confused. What am I meant to do about it? What would you_ like_ me to do?"

"I'm not _asking_ you to do anything," I tell him loudly, feeling my hands clench tightly in all my agitation. "I don't want you to do anything! This is something I've got to sort out on my own, and I know that! I just need some time to think it all through, and I guess, what I'm asking for here... is your patience and understanding. I need some time. The whole thing is stressing me out to the point where I can't even think straight!"

"So that's what you want?" He sounds not only angry, but hurt. "Time? You want me to give you time? You want me to stay away and give you time to yourself, is that it? Is this what this whole conversation is about?"

"Who said I wanted you to stay away?" I ask, horrified. "I never said that!"

"Well, it seems like it is what you are trying to say here..."

I throw my hands up in despair. It seems to me that this entire conversation is going from bad, to worse. It isn't happening the way I thought it would have. "I'm perfectly fine spending time with you. I enjoy having you around- that isn't the problem here! It isn't you! You haven't done anything, you've been amazing! This is all about me, all right?"

"Yeah, it's what they always say, isn't it? How fucking cliché."

"They always say what?" I ask, alarmed.

"It isn't you, it's me. Fucking cliché..."

"But it_ isn't_ you, it_ really_ is _me_! It can't be cliché when it's the goddamn truth! This has no reflection on how great you are, how much I like you. This is just something I've got to sort out on my own, as part of my own stupidity. You have been nothing but great!"

"You know what, you're right," he says, through clenched teeth. "Maybe this is what we both need. A break. Let's just stay away from each other for a while, huh? Maybe that's what we need here?"

"What?" I gape at him incredulously. I want to be so strong and not to cry in front of him. I feel myself coming close to it, though. "So, that's what _you_ want, Eric? A break?"

"No, I _know _what _I_ want. Evidently it is _you_ that doesn't."

"Oh, and what do you want, Eric? Care to tell me, since it's so easy for you?"

"Let's just have a break. That way, you can sort out whatever the fuck it is that you want. If I don't come into that equation, then... fine. Just tell me over the phone, all right? Spare me all of that apologetic bullshit."

The depression settles in then. He wants a break? Obviously he really, _seriously_ wants it, because there is nothing there in his tone of voice but honesty.

"A break, huh?" I repeat hysterically, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt. I shake his arm around a bit. "That's what you want? A break?"

He groans out-loud in exasperation. "You're just a kid, you know that?"

It hurts, him saying that. Of all the things to really say, that kills me the most. It effectively puts the knife into my heart. Him saying that is the knife that bursts open all wounds. It shatters my sense of control on my feelings. Past all embarrassment, I start crying. The odd thing is that he starts crying, too.

"I'm not a kid!"

"Yeah, you are. We're just different, I realize that now. We want different things. Your reaction to what I was saying a while ago pretty much showed it."

"But I do want that, all the things you're wanting. Just because I can't see myself wanting those things right now, it doesn't mean I won't ever want them! Besides, I'm still young! I'm still trying to find my place in the world! What girl my age thinks so seriously on her life, past a few weeks from now? What girl my age seriously thinks about getting married and having children yet? Just because I'm not at that point yet where I feel up to thinking about it... it doesn't mean I ever won't want those things! If it's me you're wanting that life with, then you've just got to be patient! I'm sure I'll catch up eventually!"

This is pretty much the worst-ever argument I feel we've ever had. The one in my bedroom that time is little fish compared to how bad this one feels, with him. I wish this could somehow mysteriously stop. I wish I could somehow mysteriously reverse time so that this never started. I wish we could just go back to how we were a few minutes ago before all this, where he was teaching me how to smoke, and how he was laughing and smiling, because it is the only thing in the world that I know of that lightens up my heart best; The sound of his laughter, his smiles and playfulness, and just being silly with him. Now everything is so dark and glum between us, and I hate it.

"Why does everything have to be so serious right now?" I ask him, desperately wanting to forget this and put it right between us again. "Why does the time have to be now on talking about the future and all that comes along with it? I've got my finals coming up in about a month. All I'm hoping for, is just getting through it and passing. I'm not thinking about children now, or anything else. I'm just thinking about what's heading my way in a couple of months. Can you really blame me?"

I shake his sleeve around a bit more- my little secretive attempt in breaking him out of his dismal mood- sending his arm flopping. I think it annoys him, rather than makes him feel any better because he pushes his sleeve free and climbs to his feet. I try to do the same in getting to my feet, but it's scary standing on the back of his truck, and I have to cling onto his shoulder tightly with my hands out of fear of losing my balance and falling. Standing on his truck... it makes the fall appear longer and harder.

His back is to me and I can't see his face even if my life depended on it. But his back is radiating chagrin. "I was just telling you how I was feeling. I was just laying all my cards out on the table here," he says quietly, after a bit. "I thought you would care to know where I'm at, and how I feel."

"And I do care to know." I run my hand down his back, hoping to comfort him, as well as myself. "I just don't want you to be angry with me, all because I'm not thinking so far into the future yet. I know I want children eventually, I know I definitely want to be a mother some day. I'm glad you told me. But just because I'm not thinking that far, it doesn't mean I'm just a kid!"

"I didn't mean for you to think I was implying I wanted to start having kids now, or whatever. This is years down along the track. I just wanted to tell you that you feel like the right person for me. Obviously it was a stupid mistake."

"No, it wasn't a mistake. It just scared me a bit, because I've tried to figure it out myself. I've been sort of panicking about it lately, just what I'm feeling and what this is." I lean closely into him, for some warmth, resting my chin against his spine. "I didn't mean to be a bitch in what I was saying before, either. I know I have feelings for you. I just don't know what they are at the moment, so please don't hate me for that. Just bear with me, and I'll get there..."

"I just... I love you. I feel like I love you more now than I did before, when we were hiding around." Eric reaches around to slide his arm around my shoulders. "Before... I'm not really proud to admit it, but I... I wasn't really feeling it all that strongly. But I have felt it for a while now." He looks down at me and I look back, as much as I'm able to in the dark. Then I have to turn my head away to surreptitiously wipe my eyes. It's so sweet of him. My entire body is singing. "If it wasn't for me having this thing going on with you, I probably wouldn't have stuck around for so long like I have."

"What do you mean, you wouldn't have stuck around?" I whisper, concerned.

"It's just that there isn't much here for me anymore, apart from you."

I am majorly confused. There isn't much around for him anymore? He wouldn't stick around if it wasn't for me? Stick around where, though? On earth in general, or does he just only mean near Bon Temps?

Suddenly he laughs shakily, surprising me. "Jason doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. Neither does Hoyt. Alcide's still sticking around, but we've never been as close as your brother and I was. People are doing my head in at work, saying all this shit that has no interest to me. Pam's gone, my dad is fucked-up. There just isn't much left for me. You're the only reason why I'm staying, because I know we've got something good here. Something that makes putting up with all life's shit worth it."

"But where would you go, if it wasn't for me keeping you here?"

"I don't know. Who knows? Maybe away from here." His voice goes soft and dreamy at all the possibilities he is imagining inside his head. "Anywhere. Just far, far away." Although it feels as though we've come out on the other side of our argument, I still feel a little depressed by what he is talking about. He makes everything seem so hopeless, like life is nothing but one big void. Oh, and cold. It's freezing out. I lean into him again for some warmth, and he presses himself up against me, warming me.

I mightn't know what I'm feeling but with just being around him, I know a lot of things: I know that he is very dear to my heart. The way he is talking scares me, because I don't want him to ever go, wherever it is he plans on going. I care about him a lot, I don't want to see anybody else. He makes me feel warm inside; Happy, alive.

I've never known what love is. My parent's died when I was younger, and I don't think I ever got to experience that example they made of two people in love, wanting children and getting married, sharing a life together. I wonder if they had been around, if they hadn't died and Jason and I still lived with them, whether I would have still been so confused on my feelings. Would it have been easier for me to know and understand what this is?

I think back to Gran's words, how she said that love can sometimes start out as a crush, and then eventually, it can grow into something... stronger, and that's love. Eric said he feels stronger about me now; that he feels he actually truly loves me now. Maybe Gran was right, then? Feelings for a person just evolve over time into something stronger... and that's when it's really love. Maybe everyone has their own personalized view on what love is? If so... then I imagine love is caring for somebody with every inch of your fiber. You don't just give up, you fight for that other person, you fight to be with them through thick-and-thin. You know it is right being with that person, because you feel whole when you're around them, that you can be yourself and that they accept you whatever silly things fly out of your mouth... despite other people not feeling happy about it.

Maybe I've been spooking myself out, thinking too much? It shouldn't be that hard to figure out how you feel about a person, should it? I mightn't see my life panning out before me, my future, because I'm still stuck on the present. But that doesn't mean you don't love somebody. It just means you're focused on the here and now. It shouldn't be a reflection on how you feel for another person. I guess Gran's words had me all muddled up.

It's a bit late for it, and I've been foolishly slow on the up-take. I know I'll feel better though, I won't feel so bloated with keeping it up inside, if I just get it over and done with, and say it, like he had a few minutes ago. But just as I'm opening my mouth, fired and ready to say it, he is pulling away from me and jumping down off his truck.

"Come on," he says urgently, holding his hands out for me to help me down. "I better get you home before your Grandmother really does notice you're gone."

He drives me home in silence and pulls up just behind one of the big trees in Gran's yard to keep us hidden. The words are still on the tip of my tongue, and I get a funny tightness in my stomach, warning me to say it before it gets way too late. I can't even have it then, though, because already Eric is pushing me out of his truck.

"Go," he says firmly. "Get inside before you get into trouble."

"I will," I assure him quickly, "But let me just say something that I feel like I really need to say. I-"

"Hurry up," Eric says, interrupting me. He kisses me goodnight, and there's no hope in me saying it when his lips are on mine, and I feel my blood boil with impatience.

"Sheesh, let me say something!" I swat his mouth away with my hands and he leans back in his seat to look at me, startled.

"What?"

A sudden bout of shyness comes on brutally. Damn it. Why do I have to be so shy about it?

"I love you," I say loudly. My voice sounds more angry, because I am at myself, than anything emotional. "There. Now goodnight."

I can feel him staring at me, puzzled, as I force myself out of his pickup. He winds down the window on my side, and I lean down to look at him through it. A smile is playing around the corners of his lips.

"Better now that you've got that out of your system, Stackhouse?" he asks me, sounding as if he's dying to laugh.

"Yep, way better," I reassure him, as well as myself. I find myself grinning like an idiot all the way up to my room.

**Hope this was all right? :-) Phew, Sookie sorted things out, kind of.** **Hope you're still enjoying the story and that you don't hate me? I get scared that people are going to hate me, or maybe that's my own nerves whenever I update LOL. I feel everything I write sucks, so I'm terribly, terribly sorry! **

** Thanks so much for reading! **


	33. Distant

**Hey there, lovelies!**

**I want to thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, and the alerts I have received. It truly makes my day, and I never once thought I would ever be getting such a big and generous response to this story I'm writing. I have a lot of doubts when writing, so it is the most reassuring thing in the world. Thank you all so much, it means the world to me!**

**Hoping you enjoy this one. Love you all, you're all such amazing and friendly people! It's so sweet!**

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**Chapter Thirty-Three**

"When are you going to let me meet your dad? When are you going to introduce me to him, or don't you want me to meet him?" I try to sound playful in asking it, but I am really sort of hoping I'll get to meet him for myself.

Eric sits up slowly on my bed, pulling his arms out from behind his head. He looks full of disbelief. "You don't truly want to meet my dad. Trust me."

"Oh, but I do. Are you ashamed of me or something?"

"Of course I'm not."

"Then why can't I meet him?" I've been dying to meet Eric's dad, but I have been afraid of bringing it up. I don't want him thinking I'm pressuring him into it. Plus, by all that I've heard about his father, it's been difficult on Eric growing up. "If you're not ashamed of me, then what is the big deal in me meeting him?"

He's lost at sea for a few minutes in coming up with a great enough explanation into why meeting his father would be a lousy idea for me. He stares at the ceiling for a few minutes then he says uncertainly, "It isn't that I'm embarrassed of you. It is more like that I'm embarrassed about you meeting my dad. I know the way he is, and how he'll be. It would only be... awkward placing you in that situation."

"So he has drinking problems. You've basically already told me everything I need to know about him. I'm sure I'll be able to handle it. Plus, if it _does_ turn out as awkward for me as you think it'll be, I brought it on myself." I am trying to make him loosen up on the idea. He still doesn't look all that keen despite my efforts.

"I never even let Pam meet him. That's how bad I know it'll be."

"What, not even Pam?" So, they were together for that long and she still never even met his father? How weird. "Didn't she want to meet him?"

"She did, sure."

"Then why wouldn't you let her meet him? Four or so years of a relationship and still... you wouldn't let her meet him?"

"It's the same reason I don't want you to meet him," he says quietly. "I'm doing you the same justice in not having to meet somebody who is completely fucked-up, with loads of baggage. You should be thankful that I'm not torturing you with meeting him."

"But you know Gran really well," I point out. "You've met the one person who is basically the closest thing to a parent that I've got in my life."

"Yeah, but what's wrong with your Grandmother?" he asks. "She's normal in comparison to my dad. Does she have a drinking problem? Does she sometimes forget who you are, because she's so drunk? Does she ever forget she has a Granddaughter?"

"Your dad forgets who you are sometimes?" Gee, I didn't know it could be that bad. I try to imagine Gran forgetting who I was sometimes, that I even existed. It would break my heart if she ever had.

"He does for like... five minutes." He nods at me grimly. "He forgets who I am and why I'm in his house until I sober him up a bit. Then he just gets angry and wonders why I even bothered to come visit him..."

"I still want to meet him, despite how horrible it sounds."

"Really? You still want to?" He lifts an eyebrow at me.

"Well, yeah. I really do. Have you told him about me? Did you tell him about Pam when you were with her?"

"No, I haven't. With Pam, I didn't even tell him about her. He wouldn't remember me telling him anyway, so why would I bother?"

"Can I meet him?"

"I don't know. Maybe, one day. When I can stand it, I guess." He rubs his eyes sleepily with his fingers. "I have to see him next week anyway."

"Why? What's happening next week?"

"Next week is my birthday, Stackhouse." He looks playfully wounded. "Didn't you know?"

"What?" Oh, God. "How come I never even knew that? I never even knew when your birthday is! How terrible of me!"

Eric cracks up laughing at this. "Jesus. We are supposed to be in a relationship, yet you don't even know when my birthday is? What a pathetic girlfriend you make."

I feel guilty, even though I know he's just playing. "Well, you've never told me when your birthday is!"

He smiles broadly as if he's biting his tongue.

"What?" I prod.

"I wasn't even planning on telling you it was my birthday anyway. I was just going to let it sail right on past without you knowing."

I smack him on the arm, not at all impressed. He catches my hand, kisses it, and holds it against his chest.

"You should have told me," I tell him sternly. "Especially considering you did something real nice for my birthday! It's only fair that I do the same for you!"

"But I don't want you to do anything. I'm way too old for birthday celebrations."

"Oh, please," I scoff. "No one is too old for birthday celebrations. What are you, eighty?"

"I'm twenty-seven this year actually," he corrects seriously, without skipping a beat.

"Exactly! That isn't too old for birthday celebrations!"

The springs on my mattress squeak loudly as I reach over for one of my pillows. Just as I'm smacking him ruthlessly on the side of his head with it and ignoring his half-serious pleas for mercy, I hear footsteps outside my door, and someone knocks loudly before opening it. Gran pokes her head in to see what all the noise is about, and I can feel myself reddening as she looks between us suspiciously. Gran opens her mouth and then sees the way Eric is lying on my bed, I'm straddling him while holding my pillow and the way we're probably all hot and bothered with our playful pillow fighting, and then she beckons me out quietly into the hallway. I feel like a glum dog with its head hanging behind its legs as I follow her out obediently.

"Sookie, you know I don't mind you having Eric in your room," she says to me quietly. "But it is a school night, and you have school and your shift at Merlotte's tomorrow."

"Gran, we were just talking and Eric won't be here for long. We just-"

"Yes, and I'm perfectly fine with that. But your brother is sleeping across the hall, and I don't want you waking him by making an awful lot amount of noise, dear."

"Oh, sure. Like Jason is really concerned whether he makes too much noise for me on school nights when he has random girls over for the night, Gran."

"With Jason, it's different. What Jason does is his own business. I don't want to hear any of it," she says sternly. That comment really gets me going. I'm about to raise my voice in protest, when she presses a finger to her lips. "I don't want no arguments now. I'm not saying he has to leave, dear, but I do want you to keep the noises to a minimum."

"Gran, we were just talking and I was fooling around."

"All right, that's fine," she hisses. "All I'm asking is that Eric doesn't keep you up for far too long. Also, for you to try to be considerate of your older brother who's sleeping in the room across the hall."

"All right," I tell her softly, trying to placate her. "And I will. Don't worry, all right?"

"Goodnight," she mutters grudgingly. "Goodnight Eric," she calls into the room.

Eric looks abashed as he says it back to her, and then she's gone. Closing my door and feeling rebuked like a small girl all over again, I carefully tread my way back over to my bed, feeling the redness colour my cheeks. I love my Gran something shocking, but why does she have to insist on embarrassing me sometimes?

He smiles at me apologetically as I climb back onto my bed next to him. "Should I go?"

"No, please don't. Not yet anyway."

"I think your Grandmother is annoyed with me still being here."

"So? She'll get over it. Apparently she thinks we're being too noisy."

"We were being noisy just then?"

"Yeah, apparently." I roll my eyes and lay down on the bed next to him, side by side.

Just as I'm getting too comfortable, he whispers to me, "I guess we should be quiet then, huh?"

"I thought we were already being quiet, though? All I was doing was attacking you with my pillow. How is that being loud?"

"Your bed was squeaking. Your Grandmother probably assumed we were doing something else in here."

"Like what?"

"Probably something a little along the lines of this..." Suddenly Eric is rolling over and his mouth is on mine. His hand comes up over the back of my neck, and I feel it moving into my hair, caressing me while also holding my head in place while his lips crush to mine.

It definitely gets the point across well in what my Grandmother probably falsely thought we were getting up to. I can feel warmth spreading throughout the centre of me. This is turning me on like a light switch. After a minute, he let's go of my head and sits up against my headboard. I feel dizzy as I look up at him, and he licks his lips while giving me a ferocious look. I know an eye-fuck when I see one. Surely he's as worked up as I am. I get my confirmation when he grabs my pillow to cover it over his crotch and camouflage anything that is going on down there. Sadly now in my bedroom, especially after my Gran's little warning isn't the most appropriate time for anything. If we so-happened to be alone in the house, though... I would totally be tearing off my clothes and lunging on him. I feel almost desperate to feel his body against mine again.

"I should probably get going," he whispers, much to my disappointment.

He stands from my bed and I do the same when he does, and a little reluctantly, I notice, he flings my pillow back down onto my bed. I can't help glancing at his crotch before we start heading quietly out into the hallway. We manage to sneak downstairs and I notice the television is off and everything is dark except for the porch light Gran left on for Eric. Knowing full-well that the coast is clear and that we don't have the slightest chance of being caught-out, just as we reach the front door I grab his hand and tug him back to me. He gives out a loud sigh of disapproval, but lets me do whatever I want. I slide my hand underneath the opening of his shirt, pausing momentarily to see whether he's actually going to tell me off, tell me to behave. Much to my pleasure, he doesn't.

"What are you doing?" he whispers in my ear, being careful to keep his voice low so no one overhears. "I'm meant to be leaving?"

"Gran has gone to bed," I say,_ really_ stating the obvious.

"Yeah, I know that," he breathes, a little unevenly. "What do you want?"

"I want..." I'm blushing and _goddamn it_ I can't even begin to say it. I hate my shyness around him sometimes.

"You want?"

"You know what I want. Don't pretend you don't know."

"Well, I don't know much. But I think I can guess a thing or two. Come on." He takes me by the hand tightly, and leads me outside onto the porch. The night-time breeze wafts over my face and I start shivering, but it isn't enough to stop me from still wanting it. I guess Eric wants it too, because the instance I close the front door on us, he takes me by the shoulders and pushes me flat-up against the wall near the front door. He stares at me expectantly, waiting. "What do you want?"

God, did I really need to say it? "You."

"And what do you want me to do?" Me.

My heart is beating like a mad thing. I try to sound casual and unaffected, as I say, "Depends on what you want to do."

He doesn't give me any headers into what he's intending to do and it startles the life out of me as he drops down to his knees in front of me on the porch. Hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband of my pyjamas, he gently pulls them down along with my underwear. Embarrassed, I quickly close my eyes and suck in a deep shaky breath as I lean the back of my head against the wall, mortified, but at the same time strangely curious.

"Can I try something?" I hear him ask softly.

"Try what?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I?" Despite knowing I trust him more than anything, I still feel nauseatingly nervous. I feel my hands clench tightly into fists at my sides. I'm not even sure whether I'm still breathing. "What are you doing down there?"

And almost immediately, I get my answer. It's like a shock to my system, because I definitely wasn't expecting_ this_ from him. Maybe some naughty sex against the wall of the porch, but... this? Well, hell. I don't even know what this is. He unleashes his tongue, _down there_. A sound I don't even recognize coming from myself happens, and my hands fist into his hair. He goes on and on without mercy, without surrender, until my knees weaken and I fear I'm about to faint. My heart is pounding in my ears. I never knew something so intimate could feel so earth-shatteringly wonderful.

I don't know how I'm ever going to look at him, after this. Something tells me I'll be way too embarrassed the next time I see him.

* * *

Alcide pops in from work just after five-thirty the next afternoon. He's come straight from work, looking for a beer and some alone time to clear his head.

"Hey Alcide, how are you?" I ask him happily, when he comes over to order.

"Good, Sook," he says, grinning largely. "How's it going?"

"Good. Eric's birthday is coming up this week. Help."

"You guy's are still going good?"

"We most certainly are," I tell him proudly. Good seems an understatement, though. I keep waiting for something terrible to hit me, some cruel awakening.

"Well, that's good."

"I'm not sure how good we'll be if I screw up his birthday, though. Please help," I plead desperately.

He laughs. "You must be real desperate and out of ideas if you're asking for my help. I've never been good with birthdays, just ask Debbie. For her birthday I got her lingerie when all she wanted was a ring. I fucked that up pretty badly."

"Well, I'm not very good with birthday presents either. What do you think I should get him?" At least I know what to get Alcide, if only him. I get him his usual beer, a Heineken, and he thanks me and gives me a super nice tip.

"I honestly have no idea, Sook. Just get him something that makes him happy. He needs it." He peers at me sadly. "I've been kind of worried about him. He's been acting real strange."

"Strange how?" Eric hasn't been acting strange around me. He's been acting the same.

Alcide thinks it over for a moment, and then he shrugs, at a loss. "I don't know, Sook. He just seems not himself lately. I was talking to him this morning at work, but he kind of zoned out on me. He wasn't really listening. It was like he had too many other things on his mind to think about."

"Well, things have been hard. He's been going through a tough time with his dad, and no doubt my brother's behaviour hasn't been helping..."

"I don't know what's going on, Sook. But he actually told me yesterday that he was thinking about quitting work and calling it a day. Forget that he has bills to pay for. He reminded me of someone who doesn't expect to be around any longer..." My stomach tightens at this, and this horrible gnawing sense of dread overwhelms me.

Are things really that bad? Eric hasn't really talked to me about anything that has troubled him. Well, there was that night we had that silly fight, all my fault; He talked about how if it hadn't been for me, then he wouldn't be around for any longer. Truth be told, I didn't like thinking about what he said too much. It kind of frightens me. But then he seemed upbeat around me at my house that night. We were being playful. Surely, he can't be in too much of a downer, right?

"He's told me too that he's been wanting to get out of construction for a very long time. Maybe he's finally doing that?"

"Don't know, Sook. But yesterday he cornered me, and said that he actually-" Alcide clears his throat gently, as though he has something stuck in it, and lowers his voice which isn't necessary because his voice is quiet and rumbly enough as it is - "He actually told me he was real thankful for all that I've done for him, and that I'm a true friend, a real gem."

"Well, you are," I tell him gently. "You're a wonderful guy, Alcide. Don't doubt it."

"Yeah, but... guy's don't really say that emotional shit unless they're not expecting to be around for very long, you know? Anyway, I'm real worried for him. Just make sure you let him know you care, alright?" Scaring me, Alcide looks at me for a very long moment, and his eyes start swimming with tears. He looks very emotional, which sends me instantly on the emotional train as well. For a big guy like Alcide to get emotional- it's very touching. It's hard not to be affected to some extent. A lump gets stuck in my throat and in the only way I know how to make the pair of us feel better, I come over the counter and put my arms around him. Around us people in Merlotte's are ignoring us, chatting away. "Just make him happy," Alcide whispers, hugging me back quickly. "Cheer him up a bit."

"Oh, I intend to. Promise. Where is he, anyway?"

"I don't know. That's the thing, Sook. He just wants to be alone, I guess. He doesn't want to hang out much anymore. Not like he used to, anyway."

"I'm sure he'll be okay," I reassure Alcide, as well as myself. I need a bit of reassurance as well.

"Hope so. You're probably right."

I kiss Alcide on his hairy cheek and move on, reluctantly getting back to work. It's a little hard though, because his conversation sticks with me. It's hard to be in a good mood when the person I care probably the most about in the entire world isn't being himself. It is hard not to worry and dwell on it. It makes me all the more determined to give him the best birthday ever. He won't even know what has hit him.

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear..._

With perfect timing, Eric comes into the bar. He has changed out of his work clothes into some clean ones; His jeans and a baggy leather jacket, with a white shirt underneath. Despite all that Alcide has said, he looks happy when he comes over, albeit a bit tired from a hard day's work. He even kisses me on the cheek and grins at me, which gives me a lethal dose of the tingles and a hammering heart.

"Hey, how was work?" I ask him interestedly.

"Fine," he says shortly. It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about it now, so I drop it.

"Alcide's here too," I tell him, nodding over into his direction. Alcide is sitting alone at one of the tables, looking in need of some manly company. "You should go chat with him." I know Eric hanging out with Alcide is exactly what Alcide would need best, especially considering how worried he is about him. "You want a beer?"

"No, I'm good. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, okay."

I try not to feel too down as I watch him approach Alcide's table. Usually Eric is up for a beer. Usually he isn't so short with me either. But maybe he has just had a lousy day? Although I'm trying my best not to look, I can't help it. I see Alcide greet Eric with obvious relief by standing from his chair and patting him enthusiastically on the back. They both sit, and Alcide starts chatting animatedly about something, something that Eric obviously is having trouble listening to. He looks restless and unsettled, resting his chin on his hand and looking anywhere but directly at him. Maybe that's what Alcide was mentioning about? Maybe that was Eric's zoned-out look? Reaching out to him, I see Alcide touching his shoulder soothingly. Only Eric looks way, way too far away for it to even register.

It just deepens my sense of determination in doing something special for his approaching birthday. He did something special for me on my birthday, so why shouldn't I do something special for him to celebrate it? I'm really going to knock the ball out of the park with it, I'm going to go all the way, and do something huge, something to cheer him up and make him never forget it. With that in mind, I start my planning. I'm thinking along the lines of making a cake, and maybe asking Eric if I can borrow his apartment keys on the day of his birthday. Maybe I can sneak in and put up all those streamers and balloons? I know he's twenty-seven this year and balloons and streamers are kind of a kiddy thing, but who doesn't love balloons and streamers at any age? Hell, maybe I can even try squeezing on twenty-seven candles on a cake. I've never been good at birthday's, and apparently Alcide is exactly in the same boat. But I know I'm going to make it as best for Eric as humanly possible.

A while later, I spot Alcide getting up to leave. Eric brushes him off with an indifferent hand wave, and just as I'm about to approach Alcide to ask him how everything went, he gives me a shrug and a look that says, _Please don't ask. _It isn't very reassuring to say the least. I observe Eric, trying to be discreet about it, as he sits there at the table all by his lonesome after Alcide beating a hasty retreat. He looks kind of lonely and flooded with thought as he sits there. Since the activity in the bar isn't so wild tonight, I figure I have that few minutes to spare in checking in on him. He doesn't even look at me as I slide into the vacant chair next to him. He doesn't even respond in touching me back, like he usually does, when I place my hand on his thigh under the table.

"Hey. What's up?" I ask him, worried. "You're acting different. Even Alcide noticed. What's happening with you?"

"Am I really acting different?" Finally, he meets my eyes. He doesn't smile at me or anything.

"Well, yeah, you really are. Has something happened?" I'm almost scared to even know.

He gives me a wry look. "Can't I just be in a bad mood without anything having to happen to cause it? I'm just not in a good mood tonight."

He's really not helping me out at all in understanding. "Then why're you in a bad mood for?"

He shakes his head. It's obvious he isn't going to start telling me, and I'm not going to pressure him into it.

"Well, just so you know... I'm here if you're needing somebody to talk to, all right?"

"Alcide already beat you to it in saying that. I just don't want to talk about it. Is that such a problem? Why do I must have a valid reason for being in a shitty mood?"

"You don't have to. Anybody can be shitty for no reason. We're just worried about you, is all. I thought maybe something was wrong?"

He sighs loudly at me, and then quickly looks away. "Why are you both worried about me?"

"Well, isn't that obvious?" My voice shakes. "You're acting unlike yourself, and we care about you. Is that a crime to care about somebody and how they're doing?"

He smiles, but his eyebrows pull together so he looks probably as frustrated as he is trying to hide, failing his façade. "Well, you don't need to be worried, all right? Neither of you do, because I'm fine, really."

I stare him down doubtfully. "I just get this... sick feeling in my stomach. Hearing what Alcide said to me only just exacerbated it."

"A sick feeling about what?" His eyes search my face. "What did Alcide say to you?"

"Just that you're thinking of quitting your job."

"Well, I already told you about that. You already knew."

"I know you told me." I rub around his knee with my hand, then squeeze down tightly. "I just get this awful feeling that you're planning to disappear or something."

Eric says nothing to deny that or to ease my mind. He simply stares at me deeply. His lips press tightly together.

"Are you planning that? Is that what this is all about? Is this why you're acting so... distant?"

"I wasn't distant last night, was I?" he asks, and I can tell he is trying to stifle a smile. He's... amused. "Was I distant last night, Stackhouse? No, I don't think I was. Especially not out on the porch."

I feel my cheeks redden. "Okay, so you weren't last night. But you are right now."

"I'm just having a shitty day."

"Yeah, but-"

"- That's it, that's all. Just forget it."

I don't really want to, because I know something is up. I can just feel it in my gut, but he clearly doesn't want to talk about anything now. So swallowing down the millions of questions I have bubbling away up to the surface, I force myself into letting it go, as he wants. For the time being, anyway.

"I've really got to get back to work, Eric. I'll talk to you more later, hopefully."

"I love you," he says suddenly, fervently, throwing me off-balance. I blink down at him- at his serious, desperate expression as he peers up at me. Exactly like that, it makes me feel tons better and as if a load has been taken off my back.

"Yeah, love you, too."


	34. The Last Time

_**Hey guys,**_

_**I want to thank you all for being so sweet. Hell nervous about this one. I'm sorry if it's really bad and a disappointment. Love you all lots x**_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Four**_

Eric doesn't leave the bar until my shift is over for the night.

He walks me out into the parking lot, his hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket and his eyes on his shoes. Something is on his mind, but he still isn't telling me. But then he pauses, turns to me, and says reluctantly, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry about what? What're you sorry for?"

"About tonight," he says, talking mainly down at his shoes, "About my behaviour."

"It's fine." I don't know how to get him to open up some more, so I just wrap my arms around him and lean against him. "I just hope everything is okay?"

He shrugs. "Everything is okay. It's more than okay," he assures me, and I unwillingly take his word for it. "You want to do something tomorrow night?"

"Sure," I breathe, surprised. "What do you have in mind?"

"Can't tell you," he says brightly, walking backwards while still watching me. "It's a secret, but I'll pick you up at, say, six tomorrow night." And, just like that, apparently_ his_ mood is more cheerful.

* * *

"Eric asked me out on a date tonight," I tell Gran excitedly. Fortunately the excitement isn't one-sided. Gran looks sincerely pleased for me.

"Where do you think you two will be going?" Gran asks, with interest.

"Not sure. He never told me much. I guess he wants to surprise me." It's obvious he does want to surprise me, considering how vague he was about what's in-store for us tonight. I love surprises, truth be told. I love not knowing what's in-store for the evening.

"Well, it's about time you two went out in the real world together," Gran goes on. I can't say I'm fully listening, since I'm so preoccupied with doing my hair and make-up. I had picked out my dress the night before; It is the best dress I own; in fire engine red color, a halter neck that keeps all my bits modestly covered. I'm wearing red lipstick (Racy Red, or so the color is named) and purple eye shadow to complete the look. I feel it brings out the complexion of my skin and my blonde hair well. "You two spend a lot of time messing around in your room."

"Do we, really?" I ask her, surprised. I honestly didn't think we spend that much time in my room together.

"Yes, to me, you two do anyway. But you have fun tonight, all right?"

Having fun really isn't a problem. Spending time with Eric ordinarily was bundles of fun to me. "I'm not sure when I'll be getting home," I tell her, "But please don't wait up for me, okay? Who knows? We might end up heading back to his apartment for the night..."

I look at Gran, just to make sure she doesn't feel funny on that. But she gives nothing away, so I guess it means she is perfectly fine with it, me sleeping over at Eric's.

I put on my heels in the living room. Jason's watching the television on the sofa. I notice he makes an effort not to look my way, see what I'm doing. He has worked extra hard at avoiding me lately. Honestly, I'm glad he does. It doesn't offend me whatsoever. Just as I'm halfway through strapping them on, I notice Jason turns down the volume.

"Going somewhere?" he asks, with no real emotion in his tone.

"Maybe," I reply cautiously. "What's it to you?"

He doesn't answer. He just blinks at the muted-down television screen.

"I'm heading out with Eric for the night."

"And why are you bothering to tell me that for?"

"I don't know," I mutter, miffed. "Maybe because you're my brother and I thought you'd care to know. Everything is going great between us."

"So? How is that any of my business?"

Gran calls my name. Eric has obviously arrived. Jason is impossible. I get up, suppressing a sigh. Out of the blue, Jason reaches out and grabs my hand.

"Why're you still doing this to me? He fucking beat the shit out of me, and you still want to see him, despite all that?"

"Jason. Let me go." I stare him down, and he stares back impassively. After an awful moment, he finally drops his eyes and let's go of my hand. I hurry out into the hallway, just to find Gran standing by the front door. She has switched the porch lights on in advance and everything.

"Sookie, Eric's here!"

I don't know why I am feeling so nervous, but I am. It is probably because this is almost like a real date, for us. Although we've been together for a while now, and although I feel I know him really well, I still feel as if we're heading out together for the first time. It isn't exactly like Eric is a stranger, but my hands go all clammy and the butterflies attack me ruthlessly, when there comes a slow and gentle knock on the front door.

Gran takes initiative to open the door for him. I can hear her making a big noise, as she always does, no doubt because she is so fond of Eric. I go into the hallway in time just to catch him giving Gran a quick peck on the cheek, which has her delighted to no end. Evidently she was all for us spending time together on weekends. My eyes go immediately to him, and I find I can't look away easily. He stands back from Gran as his eyes hold mine in, and a small, nervous smile plays across the corners of his lips. I return the smile happily. Tonight he is wearing dark denim jeans and a tight grey shirt underneath an unzipped leather jacket. He looks casual yet formally dressed, and most of all... delicious as hell!

I have to remind myself it isn't cool to drool, especially not when I've seen the guy for a pretty decent amount of time now.

I'm sure my face is an obvious shade of crimson as Gran waves us out and tells us to have a good time together. I feel almost as if she's sending me off with my graduation date or something. It's so weird. Eric turns to look at me with raised eyebrows as we head towards where his pickup is parked.

"Was that as weird for you as it was for me?" he asks in a hushed voice, careful that Gran doesn't overhear. "Why is your Grandmother so happy?"

I crack up laughing. "Yeah, it definitely was weird. Gran has always really liked you. I think she's over the moon that we're actually getting out of the house." Making me feel even more embarrassed, Gran stands out on the front porch, waving us off enthusiastically. I wave back quickly, feeling even more colour spread to my cheeks. "Gran thinks we spend too much time in my bedroom," I tell him, just for conversational purpose.

"We spend a lot of time in your bedroom?" He looks dubious. Then a little guilty. "I guess we do. But not in the way your Grandmother is probably thinking. All we do is just talk. Well, we talk most of the time, anyway."

"Exactly," I agree, feeling myself grinning like an idiot. "So, what's happening tonight? Where are you taking me?"

"Oh, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Well, I guess it's a risk I'm willing to take," I tell him sarcastically. "Seriously, where are we going? Are we heading to Merlotte's? Are you taking me out there?" I guess I can be pretty impatient when it comes to surprises.

"Merlotte's?" He pretends to think that over very seriously. "No, I'm not taking you out to Merlotte's. How would it be regarded as a date, if I took you to the one place you're already stuck out at several hours a week?"

"Smart thinking." I'm very pleased it isn't Merlotte's Bar we're going to, then. Since I work there, I practically live and breathe Merlotte's lately. "Have you realized we haven't actually gone out on a proper date since getting together?"

"I have realized that, and that's my point. It's exactly why I'm doing this. I thought it would be nice. I wanted to make it certain on you that I appreciate you, and that you mean the world to me."

I lean over to grip my hand in his. "This _is_ very nice. Thank you."

"You look beautiful," he says gently, making my heart melt.

"Thank you," I whisper, feeling touched. "You too," I add, without really thinking. "I mean... is it... is it okay to say that a, uh, guy looks beautiful?" I'm rambling and I don't even know why. I blame nerves. "Or is that weird to say that? Is it emasculating to say you look beautiful?"

"I don't know." He chuckles. "It is kind of... weird to call a guy beautiful. To me, anyway. It's better than anything else you could say about me, I guess."

"Handsome, then. You look... handsome."

When we get to the place we're going to have dinner, I find out he's really picked a perfect place. It's the same place we shared fries at that time, and unfortunately had ran into Alcide. That awkward moment of spilling beer over the table and accidentally groping Eric underneath the table plays strong in my mind, as we get a seat. Taking a trip down memory lane, I order a basket of fries for dinner and Eric orders the same. It's obvious he remembers that awkward time too, because he peers over at me with amusement. When the waitress gets underway with our orders and we're alone out of earshot, he bops his shoulder against mine playfully.

"Remember?" he asks quietly, smiling to himself.

"Of course, I do." I laugh. "How can I forget?"

We fall into a weird silence. This is what I hate most about dates. The silences. "So what's happening?" I ask, hoping he'll tell me what the plan is for the evening finally.

"What do you mean?" he asks, seeming not to understand.

"Well, what brought this on all of a sudden?"

Eric looks grim as he thinks that through, very seriously. He jerks his shoulder. "I don't know. I just... wanted to spend some time with you. I wanted to lavish you."

"Oh, lavish me?" I tease. "That sounds very nice."

Leaning over, he kisses me quickly on the cheek. _Lavish me, indeed._

"You can feel free to lavish me anytime you want," I tell him, trying to joke.

"Oh, we've got the night ahead of us," he says, holding in my eyes, and the warmth in his almost makes me feel like basking.

"Then by all means, do lavish away, good sir."

He shakes his head and smiles.

Our meals arrive, and I'm the first one to jump in eagerly. I'm starving. Eric just sits there, staring down at the fries, almost like they are unpalatable to him.

"Aren't you hungry?" I ask him, while chowing down on my own.

"I'm kind of not in the mood for eating," he admits to me slowly, wincing. "I'm not sure why."

"Why not?"

For about the first time this evening, he looks really uncomfortable. "I don't know, Stackhouse. I just don't."

His lack of appetite rubs off on me, after a while. It's strange being the only one eating. I only get through half of my fries. I realize he keeps looking across the room at something.

"What do you keep looking at?" I ask him, worried.

"There's just a pool table over there. After your finished eating, let's go play."

I get the feeling he misses doing exactly that with my brother. I know I'm a lacking substitute for him, but I agree to try my best. Throwing in the towel and no longer in the mood to eat, I follow him over to the vacant pool table.

"So, you want to play?" he asks, gathering all the balls and racking them into position.

"Maybe." I make a face. "But I know I'm going to be real lousy at it. I've never played before. You've played it in Merlotte's, like, millions of times. Something tells me you're way more experienced than I'll ever be. I'll be an easy loser." Humbleness never killed anyone, I figure.

"Oh, I'll make a deal," he bargains quietly. "If I win, you have to come back with me to my apartment. If I lose, as unlikely as that may be... then it's your decision."

It's a pretty silly bargain he is putting up, because, no doubt, he knows I want to come back to his apartment after the evening is through. So, I give in. It's really a win-win situation anyway. "All right." I put on my best game face. "It's a done deal, Northman."

Eric puts on his best stern game face as well, as he moves to pick up the cue sticks: One for him, one for me. I have to stifle a grin at how playfully menacing he looks. "I'm gentleman enough to let the lady go first," he says, surprising me.

He stands back considerately to give me some space to make my first move. I hesitate, as I lean down over the long table. I don't even know how to hold the stick, for goodness sake. I'm suddenly aware of myself, more than aware, looking idiotic as I try to position it near the balls. I peer behind my shoulder uncertainly. Eric is standing behind me, waiting patiently for me to start the game.

"Uh, am I holding this right? How the heck am I meant to do this?"

"It's easy. There isn't much to it. I'll show you."

All my worries of looking silly in front of Eric instantly turn to mush as he comes up from right behind me, his body flush against my back as he leans over me. His groin presses up into my backside. I feel my pulse quicken as he slips his hand over mine, only to slide it down lower to the edge of the stick. Who knew something so innocent, such as playing a game of pool, could feel so erotic with the right person? Something tells me most things with Eric can be erotic, because that's just how he makes me feel half the time.

"See, just like that," he says, breathing in my ear while pulling my elbow back a fraction. "You pull your arm back a bit, Stackhouse." I'm not exactly concentrating on what he is showing me, on which ball he was helping me aim for, because with the way he is leaning over me... pressing into me... it is more than just a little distracting. This reminds me exactly of all those embarrassing times he tried to help me with Math. Just like all those many times, I lose all train of thought. There is nothing else, but him. The colorful balls explode like a mix of fireworks as he helps me hit them, officially starting the game we are playing with each other. He helps me shoot again, directing me, and one of the yellow balls teeters on the edge of a corner pocket before falling. "And there, you go," he says gently, straightening up. My heart flops at the sudden loss of contact. "That's it. It's your turn again, because you just got a ball in."

"But you helped me. It doesn't seem fair to go again!"

"Well, consider this your head-start," he says confidently. "I'm going to nail your ass at this."

Nail my ass?

"Nail my ass? Well, isn't that unjustifiably cocky of you, Northman?"

"Well, it's the truth. I'm pretty good at this."

"We'll see about that," I tease, sounding more confident than I feel. I move to the other side of the table opposite him, thinking hard on my next move. There is a black 8 ball barely an inch away from a side pocket, just dying to be aimed at. I lean forward and position the cue stick level to the white ball into it's direction.

Before I even go to shoot, my eyes seem to automatically flit up to where Eric is standing on the opposite side. It seems he is feeling certain about winning the game as well, a satisfied smile is twisting his lips. I feel the butterflies erupt into the pit of my stomach as his eyes meet my own, then force myself to refocus on my main aim of shooting the little black ball into the pocket.

To my delight-and surprise that I had actually even managed to shoot it on my own- I send the white pitching toward the black one smoothly, and with one hit as they knock together, the friction sends it rolling into the pocket. I straighten up with a cocky grin, only to hear Eric burst out laughing at me. He sure can be mean sometimes, but I know he's only just playing.

"_What_?" I ask defensively, unable to stop smiling myself as I go to line up the stick for my next shot, returning to his end of the table.

He yanks the cue stick from my hand silently and places it back onto the table. I am utterly confused.

"You lose and I win," he informs me smugly.

"What? How? We've only just started..."

"You lose. It's a finished game if a person shoots the black 8 ball in a pocket, which you just did, so that means that I've won. I guess you'll have to come home with me after all."

"Oh, well." I shrug it off easily. "I'm hardly losing anything, considering I wanted to spend the night at your place anyway."

"Oh, cheeky," he whispers playfully. I laugh. Since I think we're both desperate to leave, we get ready to pay for our meal. I offer to pay, but Eric just shakes his head. He pays, much to my embarrassment, and then we're off, stepping outside. I regret wearing a dress the instance we do, because it is unexpectedly cold tonight. I have forgotten to bring a jacket with me, so I'm shivering my little butt off.

"How long is your apartment from here?"

"Just a few blocks." Maybe he senses how cold I am, because he removes his leather jacket and holds it out to me. I smile at him thankfully, and slide into it. I can still feel his warmth, and I bury myself in it, as we walk towards his pickup. It doesn't take us very long to reach his apartment. He pulls up into the driveway, helps me out, and then we're heading inside and Eric is turning on most of the lights. "Do you want something to drink?" he asks me.

"Sure, why not?"

"Is a beer okay with you? It's all I've got."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'm not fussy."

"Good." He looks relieved. "Candles?"

"Um, okay." I laugh nervously, watching him as he disappears for a moment.

He returns with two beers, sets them down on the floor, then he starts wandering around the room, lighting candles. I never even knew he had any. I can't help but notice that all his boxes of belongings are packed again, as I take off his leather jacket and drape it over his sleeper-sofa. It's back to looking lonely and undecorated again, but it doesn't look as bad and noticeable when he flicks off the light and the room is dancing with little flickering candles. I make myself comfortable by sitting on his sofa. Eric unscrews a beer and holds it out to me. I accept it, and then he sits slowly beside me, doing the same with his own beer. He flicks the lid down onto the floor.

Everything is a quiet, awkward silence for a few minutes. It's obvious neither one of us knows what to say now. We meet each other's eyes and smile, and Eric raises his beer. I tap his with mine, and take a quick and nervous sip, looking away. Why the hell am I so nervous? It isn't like we're strangers, after all. Eric obviously hates the silence as much as I do, because suddenly restless, he gets to his feet. I watch him anxiously as he kneels down, fussing around in one of the boxes. He looks as if he's searching for something, and he looks silently irritated that he can't find it. I get to my feet, hoping to help and be of assistance, only just my luck, he finds it the instance I'm on my feet. He tilts his head over his shoulder to look at me, anxious and expectant.

"Come over here. I've got something for you that I want you to have."

I hesitate a second, before I do. He's gotten me intrigued, and as he stands slowly, I notice he is holding a long silver chain dangling in his hand. It looks like a necklace of some sort.

"What is it?" I ask, feeling just as anxious.

"Turn around," he directs me gently.

"Why?" I feel unreasonably scared. It's ridiculous.

Eric makes a spinning gesture with his hand, so I just do. I whirl around on the spot, facing the opposite direction. I feel my heart rate pick up a notch, as he collects all my hair and lifts it up away from my neck. My suspicions are confirmed; It is a necklace. He ties it around my neck and a pendant dangles from the chain. I lift it up with my fingers and scrutinize it carefully. It's an eagles talon, made of sterling silver. I don't know what the meaning is of it, but him giving it to me; I know it must be something special to him. I turn around to face him again, knowing full well he can see the shocked look on my face.

"Why're you giving me this?" I ask, fingering around the pendant with my fingers.

"I don't know. I just want you to keep it, and always wear it." Reaching out he takes my hand in his, holding it tenderly. He strokes the tips of my fingers with his.

"I will always wear it," I promise him. "I'll never take it off."

He grins down at me, looking relieved that I like it. "Well, that's good." I can't help but notice the way his voice trembles a bit with nerves. It makes him all the more endearing and amazing in my eyes. "You don't need to worry about it getting wet, either. It's real silver. It won't rust."

"Even if it did go all rusty, I'd still wear it. Thank you. I love it."

"Well, that's good. I'm glad." He nods once, and licks his lips, seemingly satisfied. Then he goes back to the sofa and sits back down. I follow him and sit, still playing around with the necklace. I think it is about the sweetest thing in the world. Eric shifts slightly on the sofa to look at me. He nods at me. "It looks great on you."

"Thanks," I whisper, feeling suddenly shy. "Where'd you get it?"

"My dad got it for me, when I was a kid. I was around five, I think. I used to wear it all the time. It's good to see somebody wearing it."

I look down at the pendant, and think,_ Eric wore this when he was a kid, and now he's giving it to me. That's pretty special._ "Are you sure you don't want it yourself?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm totally sure. Please keep it."

"And you're sure?" I ask him sceptically. "I feel bad taking it, though."

"No, don't feel bad," he urges me vehemently. He takes my hand again in his, gripping it strongly. "I want you to have it. Think of it as something that you can think of me by."

He is rubbing my hand with his and looking at me earnestly, but it isn't enough to stop those bad feelings from popping up to the surface again. It's that same old feeling I got last night, during my unsettling conversation with Alcide. The dread. The unease.

"That's a little silly," I tell him, a bit hesitantly. "Because not an hour goes by where I'm not thinking about you. I don't need a necklace as a reminder to do that. I already do it enough as it is."

"Well, that's good, because I think about you a lot too." His voice goes all trembly again, as he gives my hand a firm squeeze. I let my other hand fall from the necklace, place it on top of his. I know I need to say it, bring it up somehow. I know it might upset him or make him frustrated, I know he probably won't want to talk about anything to me. But I've just got to know, even if it is just me being stupid. Perhaps I'm only just imagining things? I certainly hope so.

"Eric, can I ask you something?"

"What is it? Ask me."

"I've been a bit scared lately. Alcide has been, too. He kind of... made me worry yesterday. I guess that's why we're both worried about you." I look at him to gauge his reaction to this. His expression was serious, but he was still holding onto my hand, urging me to continue. "I get this... sick feeling that you're going to disappear. And when I raised it out in the open last night at work, you didn't exactly outright deny that. Is something worrying you? Is there something on your mind that's troubling you?"

He sighs loudly and peers down at the floor for a few minutes. Without looking at me, he takes my hand and flattens my palm against his chest, keeping his hand over mine, pressing it into his shirt and rubbing softly.

"I just need to know that everything is okay here?" I prod weakly. "Tell me everything is okay with you."

"Everything is always okay with me, Stackhouse," he mutters quietly, still not looking. "I don't know why you think otherwise."

"You keep saying all this stuff that scares me. Plus, you just gave me a necklace that is obviously real special to you. Not to mention your apartment looks all boxed up. What's going on here?"

He finally brings his eyes over to me. He looks at me for a long period of time, hardly giving anything away. It scares me. The fact he won't confirm or deny my questions scares me most of all. I know something is up. I just know it. But putting a winning distraction onto me, he reaches down and starts pulling up my dress. I can't even find my voice to give him any inclinations that I want him to stop, so I guess he takes that as his green-light. Before I know it, he is pulling my dress off my head, and it goes straight on the floor.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" he whispers to me, placing his hands on either side of my neck and pulling me closer. "So fucking beautiful. And amazing. And I love you."

Bending his head, he licks me from the middle of my breasts up to the base of my throat and blows back down the same trail he's created with his tongue. The sensation of his breath against my wet skin is unlike anything I've ever felt, and _damn him_, it's a wonderful diversion.

"Please, I need to know."

"Ssh," he whispers softly. "Let me enjoy this."

He unhooks my bra in the back, but doesn't remove it. It is really lucky I'm wearing the best bra I own. I imagine it would kind of kill the moment, wouldn't it? Instead of removing it completely, he brings his hands to the front and slides them under the lace of my bra, cupping my breasts before lightly pinching my nipples and kissing me on my mouth for the first time he has done so tonight. I'm overcome by how much I need his kisses. I whimper into his mouth before pulling his bottom lip into mine and sucking gently. He moans gruffly in response and kneads my breasts harder before pulling the bra completely off.

He leans down to take one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, _really hard_ and circles the other one lightly with his middle finger. The contrasting sensations of hard and soft are unbelievably erotic and it sends a flood of moisture to my core.

Still despite everything, I try. I try my best. "Tell me," I pant hoarsely. "Tell me you're not thinking of leaving or anything like that. Just tell me."

"Just let me enjoy this, Sookie. Please. One last time."

He leans me back on the sofa and runs his hands up my calves, onto my thighs. His fingers find the band of my underwear and a groan escapes his lips before he hooks one finger underneath them. He slides them off me, gets them free from my ankles, and drops them to the floor in a pool around my feet. He looks at my legs for a moment, then he runs the fingers from both his hands up and down the length of my legs.

"I'm so sorry," he says in a gravelly voice. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? What the hell are you sorry for? Speak to me!"

He is pale and hollow-eyed as he looks up at me. And then he leans down and carefully embraces me. I feel his stubble rub against my cheek, and his face is wet, and he's shaking silently. I start to cry, because this feels like the end to me. I twine my arms around him, I wrap my legs around him and hold him for dear life, with never wanting to let go. He cries loudly into the crook of my neck, which starts me off loudly too, because this definitely feels like the end of something. Something is dead and gone. Something is blue.

"What's wrong?" I whisper into his neck desperately. "Please, just tell me!"

He pulls his face out from my neck and peers down at me. He strokes my hair and looks me over deeply. His eyes are shiny and wet with tears. It breaks my heart, crushes me. I know what's happening here. I just know it.

"I'm leaving. I have to head back home to my father. He's not doing so good."


	35. A Temporary Separation

_**Hey guys, I want to thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and the alerts I have received. You guy's are the best; You really make my day. I never dreamed anyone would like anything I've written, so thanks a bunch! I always get nervous while writing this story, especially rather 'intimate' sexual scenes, which leave me blushing for some reason while writing. I probably write them so bad, so I hope you'll forgive me. Thank you so much for going on this journey with me ;)**_

_**I probably might take a bit longer to update on next chapter, as I'm going to Melbourne for a holiday. There is this club called 'Draculas', which reminds me of Fangtasia, so I cannot wait to go there. I promise it shouldn't be a long wait- probably a few days more than usual updates.**_

_**Hoping you enjoy this one :)**_

_**Feel free to let me know your thoughts. Hope you're all well and happy! **_

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Five**_

I wake up and for a second I don't know where I am. An unfamiliar ceiling. Boxes scattered everywhere on the floor. Two beer bottles. My dress, heels, and underwear lying among men's jeans, a shirt, sneakers, and a leather jacket. Then I instantly remember when I feel Eric curled around me, pressing up to me from behind me. He didn't get the time to turn his sofa back into a sleeping setting last night, not after the serious discussion we had on where things are going to go now, and it's all squishy, but so warm. He is practically naked under the blanket on top of us, aside from the boxer briefs he is wearing. As for myself, I am completely naked. I would feel embarrassed about that, but at the moment I find myself beyond caring. Eric has practically seen me naked on a few occasions, so what's the big deal?

Careful not to move out of worry I'll wake him, I bring my hands up to my eyes, rubbing around them with my palms. I feel as if I haven't slept all night. Then again, we did stay up until two in the morning talking things through; It has been a very emotional night for the pair of us. It turns out Eric's dad is real sick from his years of constant excessive binge drinking. There is something wrong with his liver and Eric wants to spend as much time with him as humanly possible. I can't blame him, at all. I know that if my Grandmother was sick or somebody who was very important to me, I would have done exactly the same thing. It seems sort of selfish of me to put up a big stink about it, so I didn't.

Eric and I had a big talk about what this would mean for us: I asked him if he wanted to end things- it wasn't without a force field of tears, trust me- but he vehemently told me he wanted to resume our relationship and keep things as they are now. His dad lives a three-and-a-half hour drive away, so we wouldn't be able to see each other very much, probably once a week. But Eric promised me we would keep in touch by phone calls and that on that limited time we do see each other he would make it as great and as fun as possible. It is going to be hard, and I know I am going to miss him like hell, but hopefully this is a test that we can get past that will make us stronger together.

I can't say I'm all that surprised that Eric is leaving. I had that suspicion, and it turns out, I was right all along. I think I had myself mentally prepared for it, because it was something I was almost already expecting. I could see the signs there; In his behaviour, especially last night, when he gave me his necklace. I feel an odd sense of tranquillity now that I do know; My mind feels almost at rest. The panic and dread isn't there anymore, because now I know for sure what's happening. And us making the decision to still be together, it made me look on the brighter side. I know I'm not ready to give him up yet, and apparently he feels exactly the same way in return.

At first, I couldn't see how we were going to pass through this together. But then, keeping in mind that a lot of people have long-distance relationships, when their partners are soldiers sent off to Iraq, Pakistan, etc., and that they manage to survive it, it is somewhat easier to look more positively about all this.

I get off the sofa carefully, dodging a few boxes. I suddenly feel like Alice in Wonderland, huge and overgrown in a small room and having to stick my arm out of a window just so that I can move. I sneak my way around the maze of packed boxes, grab his shirt that is lying on the floor, and pull it on over myself. I feel immediately better now that I'm not so naked. There's also something comforting in wearing something that belongs to Eric. I head into his small bathroom and use the toilet. Then at the sink I catch my reflection and my puffy eyes from crying so much, and I feel disgusting. I run the water in the sink and cup my hands over the stream, wetting my face. It soothes my swollen, tired eyes and makes me feel that much better.

Once back in the living room, Eric is still sleeping. He has one muscular arm over his eyes to shut out any morning light escaping through the blinds, and now and then he makes funny snoring noises. His long feet are hanging out of the blanket, the _S_ tattoo still there on his ankle.

I'm way too restless to try sleeping again, so I try to distract myself. He has a few books on the floor, and suddenly I feel up to reading, but when I grab one I realize it's written in Swedish so I can't make a single word out. I feel in dire need of a coffee to wake me up, but when I look in his kitchen I realize everything is already packed away. He obviously has plans to leave today. I peek in his refrigerator and find even that it bare of all food, aside from a few beers he has in there. It's way too early for beer, that's for sure.

When I pad my way quietly barefooted back to where he is sleeping, I discover he is awake now. He is sitting up, squinting at me through the morning light, and I feel embarrassed and guilty for some reason, as though I've been caught out in doing something bad in snooping around his apartment.

"You look cold," he says, in a groggy, husky voice. "Get in here under the blanket."

"I was going to make some coffee, but then I realized you've packed everything away," I tell him by way of explanation.

"Mmm, coffee sounds good. But get back in here, Stackhouse. I have kept it warm for you."

How can I resist? Smiling shyly, I climb back in still wearing his shirt and nothing else. I think he notices I'm wearing it, because he slides his hand over it.

"You look fucking good in my clothes."

"Then don't think you're getting it back, because I'm keeping it."

As he slides his hands down over my thighs, he gasps softly when he notices it is also the only thing I'm wearing. It took him long enough. "And you're practically naked. I love it." His breath hisses through his teeth as he touches me down there. I push my pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds without needing to be told, rubbing against me. I hear myself breathing embarrassingly heavy, but then, so is he.

Boy, I want us to have sex one last time before he has to go. The phrase "One last time" instantly comes to mind. I want to make the most of it. "When are you leaving?"

"Today," he confesses apprehensively. "It's probably best if I leave as soon as possible."

"Then let's make the most of it," I tell him, and he doesn't need to be told twice. He removes his briefs from under the covers and throws them down off the sofa, and then he lies back down again on his back. He grabs both my hands and holds them tightly.

"You. On top," he orders, pulling me astride him. "I want to see you. I want to remember this."

_Oh. I've never been the one on top before, but I think I can work out a thing or two._

Fortunately for me, Eric guides me and I ease hesitantly, slowly, onto him. He closes his eyes tightly and leans his head back against the sofa, flexing his hips, filling me, his mouth forming an _O_ as he exhales raggedly.

He let's go of my hands and I rest them on the sofa to steady myself. I rise slowly, keeping my eyes on his face and nothing else, enjoying the way he is slowly coming apart underneath me. He takes my hips in his hands, showing me the way, and suddenly everything seems to click into place. I may be terrible at Math, but this isn't something else I'm terrible at. Then again, probably it is because this is easier to learn, than Math and equations? Not bothering to beat around the bush, he thrusts into me, and I cry out with pleasure.

"Oh, Sookie," he breathes, his voice strained. "Never forget this." And I know that is something I won't have trouble with doing. I will never forget this. I will never forget him- and how marvellous this feels, how his skin feels, how _everything_ about him feels. I move over him- counteracting his rhythm in perfect, easy symmetry - and I am just all sensation, lost in it, lost in everything. I tip my head back and gasp, revelling in it all.

Taking me by surprise and equal shades of delight, Eric reaches up and curls his fingers around the chain of his necklace, pulling gently so that I bring my face down to his. We are nose to nose, breathing all over each other. His eyes are open, staring right at me, and then leaning forward slightly, he kisses me softly. I return the kiss just as enthusiastically, and as our lips part, he smooths my hair with his hand, and then he runs it down my back, underneath his shirt, caressing my skin.

"You better not find anyone else while I'm gone," he rasps into my lips. "You belong with me, even if we are miles and miles away."

"Yes," I breathe shakily. "Always. I can't think of this with anyone else, but you."

He groans loudly, tipping his head back. Witnessing him coming undone all thanks to me is about the best feeling in the world, and I'm unravelling just as hard along with him. When it hits me, it hits me loudly, audibly, excruciatingly, spinning down and around me, and I collapse on top of him.

"Jesus, Sookie," he moans fervently as he finds his own release.

This is the best way of saying goodbye temporarily ever.

* * *

Dressed now and with a weighty, rubbery, carefree feeling of just having sex, I watch Eric as he carries out most of his boxes out to his truck. I would have liked to help him, be of some use, but he told me not to and demanded I just relax.

I can hear him whistling all the way from inside where I stand around, and when he returns back inside for another trip to retrieve another box, he is looking marvellous and happy, just as much as I feel. I know it's from sex. Once he is done with the very last box of his belongings, he comes back in, scoops me up, in his shirt, with my dress and heels underneath, and all, and swings me around. Now I'm laughing and suddenly all of this doesn't seem so bad, after all. Our impending separation isn't a concern at this moment. I guess we're just far too delighted to be spending time together, than to really think about what lays ahead of us.

It only hits me when Eric locks the apartment up and we sit down on the front steps together; I'm shivering in my dress and his shirt, and Eric puts his arms around my shoulders, warming me. I've never been all that fantastic with goodbyes, no matter how fleeting it will be, until we see each other again next weekend. Something tells me time will be running excruciatingly slow all week.

"So you've got everything?" I ask him nervously, just to be sure.

"I have," he assures me quietly. "I'll call you tomorrow night. Make sure you answer your phone."

"I will," I promise him earnestly. How terrible would it be, if I hadn't? "What time is it?"

"Just after eleven."

I cringe. I really better be getting back home before Gran gets real angry with me.

Maybe Eric senses how I'm feeling, because he shifts slightly on the step and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly. He buries his warm face into my neck. "Don't worry. Before you know it, we'll be seeing each other again next weekend. It'll go real quickly."

"I don't know about that." I twine my arms through his, holding him back as tightly as I'm able. "I feel like time will go so slow. It'll be a very long week, it feels like."

"I love you, all right?" His voice is soft, veracious. Just like that, it warms my heart up. I smile into his shoulder.

"Drive carefully." I lean my cheek against his shoulder, and we stay like this for an immeasurable amount of time. Just as I'm getting too comfortable, he pulls back reluctantly and strokes my hair with his hand. I put my hand on his face, looking him over carefully, memorizing his features. "Hope everything works out okay with your dad."

"It will."

I'm trying so hard not to cry and be strong. I feel deserving of an Oscar nomination for this.

"I better get going, Stackhouse."

"Kiss me first!" And he definitely does. He kisses me for a long moment, putting all our other kisses to shame, and it's a passionate and different one, filled with desperation and goodbyes for the time being. I'm breathless and dizzy by the time he pulls away.

"Love you. Always. See you next weekend."

I send it back, just as hard.

**Hope this one didn't suck? We'll be finding out how hard long-distance relationships can be for Sookie next chapter. Thanks so much, you guys constantly amaze me! x**


	36. Bad Things

**Hey guys,**

**I'm back from holiday. I hope I didn't leave you waiting for too long? Sorry about this chapter. It's just a bit of silliness (at the end). I always seem to write things that make me cringe in embarrassment lol. As for Ben, well, yeah... he's a bit creepy. And he's going to get a lot more creepy. He's going to cause some trouble, that one is. **

**Hoping you enjoy it regardless. Keep well and safe!**

* * *

_**Chapter Thirty-Six**_

It is only when I'm in the safe confines of Gran's house that I really allow myself to cry. I shut myself off in the bathroom, and burst into tears. It is a real messy crying session, and everything runs from various orifices: My nose, my eyes. Because I had worked so hard to suppress it in front of Eric, when I do finally let myself do it, it feels as though I can't stop. I must be weeping so hard and loudly that it wakes the house up, because next thing I know, Gran comes busting in through the door. I turn to look at her with despair, and Gran looks back at me in sadness before she comes at me in a panic.

"Oh, Sookie! What is it, pet?" Soon I am weeping in Gran's arms and she is patting my back consolingly. "What's happened?" I haven't cried in front of Gran in quite some time, so I think it frightens her. I can't even remember the last time I did. "Did something bad happen to you?"

She reaches over and grabs some toilet paper for me, and I blow my nose, and wipe my eyes. Once the storm of tears is over, I settle into a sleepy, relaxed calm, and Gran strokes my hair.

"Better now?"

"Sorry, Gran. I'm just in a funny mood."

"What's wrong?"

"Probably nothing you're thinking. It's just that Eric's dad is sick, so he left Bon Temps this morning. I've held in the tears until I got home."

"Oh, he left town?" I nod at her. "So you broke up? Is that why you're so depressed?"

I would hardly call myself depressed. "No, Gran. We haven't broken up. We've agreed to try the long-distance thing. We'll be seeing each other once a week, until things are alright with his dad." I laugh at her sadly, then hiccup. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

"Tonight we're going to have ourselves some fun," she tells me determinedly. "We are going to watch some girly movies and take your mind off all of this." Something tells me it'll take more than girly movies to put me into a right state again, but I agree.

Just as it turned out, I was right. No number of girly movies could distract me.

Gran and I watched Gone With The Wind together on that Sunday night (One of my all-time favourites, as well as Gran's favourite, too), but I kind of lost interest halfway through. It was mainly because, after a while, I zoned-out and instead of seeing Clark Gable portraying Rhett Butler as normal, I saw Eric in his place instead; Eric with a moustache and slicked back, greasy hair. "Frankly, Sookie, my dear, I don't give a damn..." I swooned like crazy, and it just only made me miss Eric even more.

Even when I headed into my room for bed, I couldn't sleep so I read one of my supernatural romance novels. Well, at least I attempted to read it. I kind of zoned-off doing that, as well; Doing that was even worse, because Eric's image suddenly took the main male love interests place. He was a vampire, and it wasn't too hard picturing Eric as one. In one scene, where he was trying to control his thirst, I could easily envision Eric with fangs and a bright, crazed look of blood lust in his eyes for me. "I am going to drink your blood, Sookie Stackhouse, which is a shame, because I regret to mark your pretty skin..."

I was jonesing for Eric real badly on that Sunday night, that's for sure. But then again, they do say the first few days are the worst.

It isn't nearly as bad when I get to work next evening. There is enough activity in the bar to keep me occupied and on my feet. An odd thing happens though, while I'm going around taking orders in my partition. Dawn Green, one of the brunettes that work with me, is having trouble serving a young man who looks about Eric's age. I can hear them all the way from where I am dithering around, jotting down orders for the evening on my notepad with my pencil. "What can I get you, honey?" Dawn says; her customary greeting. I am halted by the man's voice saying, "You can bring me Sookie." And then I turn to find Dawn Green calling me over and then this really attractive guy is staring up at me from where he sits at the round table, with a peculiar expression on his face that tells me he knows me somehow. I try to scan my memory, and he seems familiar, but for the life of me I can't figure out why.

Until he says his name, that is...

"It's Ben," he confirms, and suddenly realization crashes down on me. Oh, Mr. Dimples that Eric beat up on that crazy night a few months ago.

He stands from his seat and slides a hand out of the pocket of the baggy denim jeans that he is wearing. He is reasonably tall, but not as tall as Eric is, and there is a naughty gleam in his eyes for me, as he takes my hand and shakes it good-naturedly. He is unshaven and his dark hair is all spikey, just as I remembered from before, and he is wearing a dark brown shirt combined with the jeans. The shirt is so tight it practically clings to him. I am speechless at the sight of him again. He stares at me, waiting for me to say something, polite but uncertain.

"Do you remember me?" he asks, a little anxiously. I definitely do remember him now.

"Of course I do," I say, feeling my face flush. It would be stupid of me to pretend I haven't. "I remember you really well. We shared a great dance together that night."

He closes his eyes at my words, and takes in a slow and unsteady breath. When he reopens his eyes, a brilliant dimply smile crosses over his mouth. "Excellent that you remember me, then," he mutters, very relieved. "I got to thinking for a moment there that you hadn't." I look over into another direction deliberately, when I notice his eyes roam down my uniform. I feel stupidly... shy of him, for some reason. "What are you doing wearing that Merlotte's uniform? You don't actually work here now, do you?"

"I do work here now," I confess cautiously. "I've been working here for a little over a month now. Can I get you anything? Some food or a drink?"

"Hmmm. What do you recommend I have?"

He sits back down slowly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the chair, while still watching me. I have to tell myself not to look at his arms. His sleeves are folded up to his elbows, and I'm fairly certain I will see a lot of muscular forearms and strong hands. But like a good girl, I keep my eyes on his face. I have a boyfriend now, after all.

"How about a beer?" He looks like the type of guy who enjoys having a beer. Then again, most men do.

"That sounds very good. A Bud, perhaps?"

I feel a tinge of sadness over that. A Budweiser is Eric's favourite brand of beer. What I would give for him to be here now...

"Sure, coming right up," I tell him, and I turn to go. I know he is watching me all the way from my journey back to the bar. I can tell he is perving, which makes me feel good in a sense. It's kind of good to know I'm still attractive to certain men, even though I'm in a committed relationship. I get his beer ready for him and as I'm turning back, my suspicions are confirmed. He is still watching me as I make my return, and the look is pretty much filled with quiet admiration. "Here you are," I manage, plopping his beer down onto the table. "Enjoy that, won't you?"

Ben gives me the cost of the beer, as well as a very generous tip. I slip it into my pocket, smiling at him thankfully.

"You just coming here to unwind?" I ask him.

"You could say that, yes," he says. "But just my luck, you were here as well."

It throws me off into an embarrassed silence for a few good minutes, that comment.

"You know, you never did reply to my text message from that night?" He sounds offended, but I can't tell if it is sincerely so. It's true; He did end up texting me, but things were sort of too complicated with Eric. Eric was the only guy I had intentions of seeing seriously, so I didn't bother replying to Ben's message. He had texted me telling me he had a wonderful time with me, and that he hoped we could get together some time to do it again. He wanted to get to know me.

I think of a few good answers to make him drop it. But then I decide honesty is probably the best policy. "I had a great time with you too, as short as it was," I tell him sincerely. "But I was already interested in somebody else. And now, that somebody and I are dating. That's probably why I never got back to you. Sorry."

I try to keep my eyes on him as he looks me over curiously. But the impulse to look down at my shoes and shy away runs strong. It's a hard battle I'm finding to win. "So you have a boyfriend?" he asks after a beat, sounding and looking disappointed.

"I do. He's out-of-town at the moment, due to family troubles."

He makes a little grunting noise. "So, tell me: Is your boyfriend that same guy that beat me up that night?"

I feel a flush wave over my face again. "It was him, and I'm still very sorry about that."

"I figured as much. I know guy's don't usually get like he did, unless there was something going on."

"Well, you're very perceptive then, aren't you?"

"I guess I am." He smiles at me widely. "Then again... I know I would have acted exactly the same way he did. I wouldn't like anyone threatening to make a move on my girl either." I try to smile, but it takes a lot of effort for me. I'm nervous, flustered, and embarrassed, all in equal measures. "So he is out-of-town due to family?"

"Yes, he is."

"And he's left you all alone here?" Disapproving, is how he sounds.

"Well, it isn't like he can take me with him. I've got my obligations here, namely school and this job I'm trying to hold down to earn a little cash."

I watch him as he takes a slow sip of his beer, thinking that through. Then something unidentifiable crosses over his face; A funny expression. "Well, either your boyfriend is very foolish or trusting of you. It isn't very smart of him."

"Why is that?" I demand, unnerved.

"You should never leave your other half all alone."

I shake my head. "He's coming to visit on the weekend, so I wouldn't exactly say he is doing that."

"Oh, well... if he is still seeing you as often as he can, then it's not as stupid..." He lowers his voice. "But leaving you alone here, well... you don't exactly look like the faithful type, do you?"

I don't know what to say in response to that. I don't look like the faithful type? I don't think I quite understand what that means exactly. I know I'm not the type of girl to cheat on somebody. I would never do that to Eric. So, why would Ben think that?

"I can't tell whether you're trying to insult me?" I laugh nervously. "Are you trying to say I look like a cheater, or something?"

"No, not at all." He looks me over seriously. "It's just... you're very attractive. You're a young woman. Plenty of men would be interested in you."

"Plenty of men?" I look around us in disbelief. "Where are these plenty of men you're speaking of? There isn't plenty of men..."

"Oh, there would be. You probably just haven't noticed, and that is why it was a very risky move of your boyfriend leaving you behind the way he has."

"Like I said, he hasn't left me behind," I correct him, feeling a little miffed.

"But he has, hasn't he?" Ben looks around Merlotte's carefully himself. "He has left you back here, all alone, surrounded by drunk men. How are you going to go with fighting against the temptation when you get lonely without him?"

Sure, I do feel lonely without Eric here. But I can't even imagine being that lonely that I would risk ruining a great thing by seeing other guys. It's ridiculous.

"Besides, isn't there that brilliant saying?" Ben goes on cheerfully. "What he doesn't know won't kill him, and all that? You could be boning thousands of men, and he wouldn't even know about it. I bet he sees you as this darling little woman, who wouldn't do anything wrong, doesn't he?"

Now he has really gotten me insulted by the turn of out conversation. "I would never hurt him by cheating on him," I tell Ben, horrified. "I don't know why you're saying all this." Good gravy.

"I, for one, personally believe we're not predominantly monogamous creatures."

"Well, I do," I point out stiffly.

"I know of a lot of women who have tried the whole faraway dating thing, and all they lasted was twenty-four hours. When it came to me, anyway..."

"Well, you're wrong."

"I find you very attractive, for instance. How would your boyfriend feel if he saw us now?"

I am definitely feeling spooked by our conversation. How did this even begin in the first place? "He wouldn't feel... anything," I tell him. "Because he wouldn't need to. Nothing is going on here, is it?"

"Yeah, you keep on telling yourself that. But I know you find me attractive. You told me so that night we danced together."

I feel my face fall. So, yes, I sure did find Ben attractive. But that didn't mean anything, did it? "So what if I do?" I ask out loud musingly. "When you're in a relationship with somebody, it doesn't mean your attraction to men just turns off automatically like a light switch, does it?" No, it is all about knowing how to act responsibly.

"How long do you think you're going to last?" Ben throws at me unnecessarily.

"I don't think you have any business asking me that," I retort indignantly. "You're insulting me by presuming I'm an unfaithful person, when I'm not."

"I don't mean to insult you. I'm just sincerely curious. I mean, you're a bit young to get tied down into something so serious, aren't you?"

"Well, I know what I want." And that person was Eric.

"Good luck with it, then," he says. Seeing no point in resuming this uncomfortable conversation, I force myself into moving again. Ben is still sitting there while I get through another few rounds. When he calls me to his table again, I'm all coiled up with anxiety. "Do you want to do something with me?" he asks, surprising me. "Sometime this week when you're lonely and in need of company?"

I can already tell it will be a very bad idea to take up his offer on it. So I decline, as nicely as I possibly can. "No, thanks. It wouldn't be very good of me."

"Oh, come on," he goads, putting up a pretty good effort. "You just said the boyfriend is out-of-town? What harm will it do any, if he doesn't know?"

"You were just practically accusing me of looking like an unfaithful person?"

"Yes, and you just put me in my place, telling me that you aren't like that. Now that I know it is highly unlikely for anything to happen between us, why can't we just hang and get to know each other? How is it going to hurt any?"

Despite how good he is arguing it, I know it isn't right. I know Eric wouldn't like it. "Look, Ben. You're real nice and all, but I don't feel right doing that."

He sighs heavily at me, and I know it is because he is upset I'm not agreeing to it. "Fine, then," he says resignedly after a moment. "Well, you have my number anyway. If you change your mind, just tell me by phone."

Again, I know it isn't ever going to happen. But for the sake of stopping all this, I nod, pretending to seriously consider it. Much to my relief, Ben lets it all slide, ending our silly disagreement once and for all. I know I would never seriously consider heading out with him, though, because I know how Eric was before, just when Ben and I simply shared a dance together. Eric didn't like it, and I know he especially wouldn't like it had he known Ben and I got together and hung out. It seems wrong of me, and despite what Ben said, I know I would not ever in a million years want to do something that potentially jeopardizes a great thing going on with Eric here. I have wanted to be with Eric ever since I can remember, and now that we are finally together, it is above and beyond all my expectations.

Going out with Ben would only just risk me losing the one thing I've wanted for myself in so long. I wasn't going to be that stupid, and I sure as hell wasn't going to put myself in temptations way, either. It's just an awakening to realize trying this out is going to be a lot harder than I initially thought; I know I'd have no problem not dating other men, considering I have no desire for the hanky-panky with anybody else. It is just that physical proximity I am going to miss the most, and the fact I had somebody I could talk about my days to. Fortunately, with the invention of modern technology, it shouldn't be that difficult to have it that way. It'll still be incredibly hard, though, as a girl that needs to see her honey in the flesh.

I'm beat by the time my shift ends and I arrive home.

I feel dead on my feet as I change into my clothes for bed. My tiredness minimally dissipates when I look at my phone to discover I've missed a call from Eric. It is the most strangely reassuring thing in the world to know he is still trying his best to keep in contact with me, as much as he possibly can despite being a three-hour drive away. I feel an inexplicable sense of guilt as I redial his number and crawl into bed. I know it is the conversation I had tonight with that Ben guy that is doing it to me.

Eric answers on the third ring. He doesn't sound very happy with me. "I told you I'd call you tonight, but you didn't pick up? I thought something might have happened?"

"Sorry, I just got a bit preoccupied with work tonight." I smile ruefully into the phone. "I didn't have my phone on me when I went in to work after school. I completely forgot you were going to call me tonight. I'm sorry. How is everything going with your dad?"

He expels a loud breath. "It's going fine. How's everything with you?"

I snort. "Same as always. Jason's been a royal pain, as he always is." The conversation I had with Jason this morning gave Ben's one tonight a run for its money, in the uncomfortable stakes. Jason somehow found out Eric had left, and he was asking me these questions; I think, mainly, he was hoping it would have meant the end for Eric and I. So when I told him we were still intending to stay together, it had put an instant damper on Jason's spirits, and he was back to ignoring me again and giving me wide berth.

"It can't be that bad," Eric says quietly.

"Oh, but it is. Trust me. It's even worse because you're not here."

There is a pause, and then I hear him sigh heavily. "Four more days. Just four more fucking days, and then we'll be seeing each other again."

"The wait right now feels like four years, and not days. I just miss you so badly."

"I know. I miss you, too."

"Really?" I don't know why I'm bothering to ask, but I just can't help myself. "What do you miss about me?"

"Everything. Your smile. Your eyes. The softness of your hair, your skin. Your teeth... and the sound of your laughter."

"My teeth?" I touch my teeth self-consciously, running along the row of the top ones with my thumb. I roll over on my side slowly. "Where are you?" I ask, wondering what his father's place looks like. "Describe it."

"Well," he begins softly, "My old man has fallen asleep on the couch. I'm standing outside on the porch talking to you. He's got a long patch of land, but the grass is dead. I can hear the television on in the living room. My dad likes to sleep with it on; He doesn't enjoy silence, it makes him uneasy."

"Why aren't you in the room with him?"

I hear him give out a low chuckle. "I needed some privacy. I didn't want him listening into our conversation. Are you with your Grandmother or your brother? Are you near them?"

"Nope, I'm in my bedroom lying on my bed." For the sake of being silly, I add, while trying my hardest not to laugh and ruin it, "Naked."

"Naked?" It definitely captures his full attention. "You're naked, while talking to me?"

"I am." Of course, I'm not really. I'm in my nylon gown, which I wear to bed on most nights. But a little lying can't hurt anyone, can it?

He makes a deep noise through the back of his throat. "Alone, I'm hoping?"

"Oh, don't you wish. Some weird guy is perving on me from outside. He keeps jumping up and peeking through the window."

"Right, sure." He sounds as if he is trying very hard not to laugh himself. It makes me smile. "Your window is pretty high up, though. Unless he has a ladder, or the ability to fly...I can't see how that's possible, Stackhouse.

"All right, so I was lying just then. About some pervert looking through the window, anyway..."

"So you're really naked?" I can tell he is getting flustered by that; By the idea of me talking to him naked in bed. "You're not even wearing underwear or socks?"

"I'm not," I lie, keeping it up easily. "I'm naked as a jaybird, lying under the sheets."

"Oh, if only I was there," he breathes, his voice shaky and wistful. "Imagine all the bad things I could do to you..."

It's weird how his voice alone makes me feel. I feel my heart seize up and my body get warm. I've heard about couples doing phone sex and talking dirty, but I never really put much stock into it. "Tell me what you'd do if you were here."

"Sookie," he groans. "It feels awkward when I know my father is near."

"Can he hear you?"

"No, he's still sleeping. The television is still on."

"Then he can't hear us, and you've got nothing to worry about. Tell me, please."

"All right, um..." He's nervous. He hasn't done this before either, apparently. "So, I go into your bedroom. You're in your bed, naked. I tell you to pull off the sheets, so that I can see everything. And then, like a good girl, you do exactly that; and you're the sexiest little darling I've ever seen." His voice goes low and compelling, reeling me in. I feel like I could even listen to him reading the alphabet all day long, and it would still make me hot and bothered. He just has one of those voices. "The sight of your body drives me crazy. I wish I could spend hours between your legs, teasing... sucking you; tasting you..."

My face is bright red now, and I can feel myself sweating, even though it can't be more than fifty degrees in my bedroom. Eric is surprisingly good at this.

I swallow loudly. "And then what happens?" I ask, my voice scratchy.

"And then, I come up beside you on the bed. I want to hold you. I want to see every part of you. Kiss every part of you. Know every part of you..." He makes a throaty noise of delight, and I feel the blood rush up to my head. He's very good with noises. "Most of all, I want to be inside you. I want to give you nothing more but pleasure. See your body join with mine; Join with you and know that there is no other way possible that I can get any more physically closer to you."

My hand seems to have a mind of its own. It wanders on me. My fingers creep underneath my nightgown, under the soft nylon, meeting the elastic of my underwear. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own, as well; Like they're possessed, they tease the soft skin between my legs.

"I want to hear you moan. I want to hear you scream my name at the top of your fucking lungs. I want you to scream that you belong to me, with me, and me always. I want you to dig your fingernails down my back and shoulders, real hard, until you draw blood. And then I want for you to lick the blood you drew off me with your pretty, warm little tongue."

My fingers start rubbing around a various sensitive spot, sending sparks of pleasure over me. "Oh, Eric," I whisper unevenly, losing myself. "I need you here so badly. I want to kiss you, I want to be with you, in my room, right here and now. I wish you weren't so far away." I'm aware of myself breathing loudly. I would feel embarrassed about it, but I'm really not.

"Stackhouse, what are you doing?" Eric asks, sounding confused.

"Oh, nothing," I lie quickly, slowing my fingers down.

"Are you touching yourself?"

Well, shit. The blood surges back to my face again. I'm awash with utter humiliation at being caught-out. "Ohm, maybe," I mutter shyly.

I'm assaulted by wind whistling into his end of the line, and then as it clears, I'm fairly certain I hear him unzipping his own pants. My breathing stops dramatically when I hear him make a heated grunting noise. "If only you could see what you're doing to me," he pants hoarsely.

"What? What am I doing to you?"

"I'm so fucking hard," he says. His voice is strained and rough. I can tell he is stroking himself, exactly like I am. It pleases me wildly to no end. "I'm so hard, and my old man is inside. You... you have no fucking idea how hard this is for me."

"I think I do have a fair idea," I breathe quietly, and I feel my legs slacken as I keep up with my fingers.

I can feel myself nearing the edge. I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from crying out far too loudly. I don't want Gran or Jason hearing, after all. Eric gives off a deep moan through the phone, about the sexiest thing I've ever heard in my entire life, and I can picture him just perfectly: Exactly like that late night I walked in on him in the bathroom, stroking the monkey. His head thrown back, his hair messy and spilling every which way. His hands... I throw my head back against the pillow, my long hair falling all over my face. The glorious pressure in my lower body grows and grows, until I feel I can hardly stand it.

"Goddamn, Eric," I moan weakly

"Sookie," he breathes, his voice a low growl. "I'm... I'm almost there. I just..."

Suddenly, I hear somebody yelling on his side of the line. Eric curses loudly and I hear him making panicked readjustments to his jeans to put himself back into rights again. I hear more yelling; A man is calling out his name.

"Fuck," he mutters, annoyed. "Sookie, I've got to go. My dad's awake and wondering where I am."

"Oh. So this is goodnight, I guess?"

"Unfortunately. I didn't even finish yet." I hear Eric yell loudly to his dad, "Vänta!"

"I know. Your dad has the worst timing."

"He does, doesn't he? I'll call you later hopefully, so that we can resume this then."

"Looking forward to hearing what more you want to do with me," I tease. "Especially about where you intend to put that big, gracious-plenties lollipop of yours."

I think it is definitely overkill on the silly dirty talk, because all I hear is him moaning in confusion before I hang up on him.

**Hope this one wasn't disappointing and crap? So sorry if it was LOL. Thanks so much for reading, I love you guys. I'm very humbled :-) P.S: I'm sorry about Eric being OOC. I'll try to get him as closer to his on-screen character as much as possible. Hoping you're still interested in the fic. x**


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